Embers of Dusk
by Lady Slytherin of Camelot
Summary: Abandoned by his parents, Harry grows up in Tom Riddle's orphanage until he meets Nagini, who takes him until Voldemort's spirit where he's offered a family. Raised by a certain Death Eater, Harry knows that he'll only be fully accepted when he does something big. In his first year, he must steal the sorcerer's stone to make his Master live once more. Wrong!BWL.
1. The Boy Who Lived

**Harry Potter is not mine!**

**This fanfic is betaed by CheeseTheThimbleSneeze. **

**Here I am again, trying to make this chapter better. Please review, even if you don't like it. I just lost all the chapters I had written (BTW, if anyone knows a program to find the files again, tell me, I beg you) and I thought that maybe with some reviews I could write chapter two again and post it after New Year. **

CHAPTER 1

The Boy Who Lived

It was October, 31, 1981. Halloween. The day that the veil between life and death was at its most frail. However, it wasn't because of this that the Dark Lord decided that he would attack the Potters that day. It was just a coincidence that Wormtail had come, that morning, euphoric. James and Lily Potter had finally chosen the Secret Keeper, and, best of all, it had been Pettigrew.

"My Lord," whispered Wormtail, with a bow. Voldemort didn't spare a second look to the Death Eater. The only reason Pettigrew was not dead was because of his position in the Order of the Phoenix. "The others are ready."

In a rare emotional moment, Voldemort smiled and his red eyes shone with malicious delight. That night, his opponent would be destroyed. Finally, no one would be in the way of his campaign to take over the Wizarding World.

"Go," ordered the Dark Lord, "you know what to do."

Pettigrew gulped. Yes, he knew what he had to do, and it wouldn't be easy. Like it or not, James was his friend. At least he had been his friend many years before, back when they still played pranks on students and teachers. James, Sirius and Remus had shaped Pettigrew into what he was today: a creature ready to follow orders, with an extensive knowledge of spells and a malleable heart.

After bowing to his master, with a pop Pettigrew Apparated to Godric's Hollow. The small gate with iron bars seemed a simple garnish for most people who passed there, but he knew better: that gate marked the beginning of the Fidelius Charm, and to everyone else, behind this gate was be an empty lot.

He entered, and the door creaked, announcing his arrival. Soon, the redheaded Lily appeared in the doorway, carrying a baby with the same red hair in her arms. "Peter!" she welcomed, opening the door and hugging his friend with her free hand. "We thought you wouldn't come!"

"Of course I came!" replied Pettigrew, leaving the hug and giving Lily a little smile. For a moment he thought about the reason behind his delay and his smile faded. Was he really about to betray his friends?

"Wormtail!" shouted James, coming down the stairs with another baby in his arms. This baby was practically a carbon-copy of James already, with the same untidy black hair. They even shared the same facial structure. "You won't believe it! We got Karkaroff!"

Pettigrew's smile flickered. Karkaroff was the most important spy for the Dark Lord in Bulgaria, a country teetering on the edge of supporting the Dark Lord. Would he confess? Karkaroff was a coward, of course he would confess.

"He'll be in Azkaban for the rest of his life!" continued James, not noticing the lack of animation of his friend. The two walked into the kitchen and James opened a bottle of Firewhiskey, took a swig and handed the bottle to Pettigrew. "I talked to Amelia Bones; she's trying to gather enough evidence to ask for the kiss. Fantastic, isn't it?"

Yes, he was about to betray his friends. Voldemort was not evil, as everyone said; he just wanted to put the wizards and witches in their proper places above the Muggles. Proof of this was Peter Pettigrew, a half blood, being accepted among the Death Eaters.

With a wave of his hand, he refused the drink. He needed to focus on his task, and thinking about it, he felt his left wrist burn. Voldemort was close, waiting for the signal, so Pettigrew said to James, "I need to talk to you. In private."

James blinked, and nodded, wondering what could be so important.

"Lily, love, I'll be back!" said James, as he put Harry in Lily's arms and went upstairs. Pettigrew followed him, slipping his wand from his waist holster. They entered the study, and having no idea of what a grave error he was committing, James cast a silencing spell.

"So…what the hell did you do this time?" he asked, plopping down in an armchair near the fireplace.

Pettigrew's throat tightened. He could feel the adrenaline beginning to pump through his veins. The words were in his mind, he knew the wand movement, the words. The two words that could kill his friend.

His hand began to shake, and before he could stop it, the wand fell and rolled to under the bookshelf. Pettigrew mentally slapped himself. Great, the best thing that could happen now. How was he supposed to kill a trained Auror without magic?

"Ha, clumsy!" laughed James, leaning down to get his friend's wand. In a second, Pettigrew had a picture frame in hand. While James stretched his arm to get to the wand, Wormtail gathered all his strength and slammed the corner of the frame onto the nape of his friend's neck. James fell forward, unconscious, hitting his head on the bookshelf as he went down.

What Voldemort had said? Get them out of the way. He had not used the word_kill_, specifically. And looking at trail of blood down James' neck, he would not be waking up soon.

Pettigrew grabbed his wand and removed the silencing spell. Putting as much panic as he could into his voice, he shouted, "Lily! Come here!"

Steps were heard and soon Lily was opening the door, without the twins. Good. One less problem to deal with.

"Oh, Merlin!" She said, dropping to her knees next to her husband. "What happened?"

"He…he tripped! He hit his head! What do we do?" stammered Pettigrew, surreptitiously pointing his wand at Lily.

Lily's green eyes looked at her husband and followed the trail of blood to the point of origin. She looked from the cut on James' neck to the picture frame lying on the ground.  
She stared, mouth slightly open. "Peter," she whispered, fearing for the first time to be in the same room as her friend, "what did you do?"

Peter raised his wand. He had made up his mind; they did not have to die tonight. Before the witch could react, he shouted, "Stupefy!"

The strength of the spell pushed Lily into the air. She hit the bookcase and fell unconscious next to her husband.

Shaking, Pettigrew left the room, locked the door, and went downstairs. He made sure that the twins were fine, and then left through the front door and off the property. Standing in the middle of the street, heedless of those who stared at him, he lifted his left sleeve and pressed his wand to the Dark Mark.

A single pop was heard, and Lord Voldemort appeared next to Wormtail, his snake Nagini wrapped around his neck. A little trick-or-treater ran up to him and exclaimed, "Wicked trick, mister!" Voldemort glared at the child and the child gave a small scream, running away from the blood-red eyes and back to his mother.

Pettigrew did not understand why his Lord had the snake with him, but didn't ask.

"Where are they?" asked Voldemort, stroking Nagini. He had a hungry gleam in his eye. That night, everything would end, and his reign would begin.

"The Potters live at Number thirteen, Godric's hollow. The twins are in the sitting room," squeaked Pettigrew, terrified of being so close to the snake. Nagini always gave him hungry looks, as if she knew he were a rat.

Voldemort ignored Pettigrew and entered the property. He didn't stop to admire the house, and blasted the door in.

Turning right, he saw the sitting room, and the two boys sitting on the couch. Voldemort entered, and immediately found himself the target of two pairs of curious eyes.

The twins could not be more different: The one on the left, Harry, had green eyes and black hair. Nick, the twin on the right, had red hair and brown eyes. The only things they had in common were their messy hair and stature.

Voldemort looked directly at children so their last sight would be his face. It was known by everyone that who came to be face to face with Voldemort did not live to tell the tale; only a few exceptions had a memory of the Dark Lord's face up close.

Seeing the face, pale as death, Nicholas Potter began to cry. Voldemort hit him with a silencing charm, and turn to glare at the other boy. Harry Potter did not begin crying, though, and Voldemort's eyes narrowed further. He would die first.

Voldemort raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra!" he hissed, pushing extra magic in the spell. A brilliant jet of green light flew toward the boy. At the same time, Nagini jumped at Nicholas, fangs ready to bite.

Everything went fast; baby Harry's eyes widened, shining the same shade of green as the spell. Nagini's fangs sank into the cheek of baby Nicholas. The spell hit Harry, bounced off his forehead, hit the wall, blasting it to pieces, and then hit Voldemort. Nicholas began screaming. Voldemort let out a scream too, from the pain of having his soul ripped from his body, and from the rage at having been beaten - by a baby. His body crumpled to ash, leaving only black robes behind, and his spirit fled. Nagini jumped through the open window and vanished into the forest behind the house.

The stampeding of feet was heard. Sirius Black entered through the opening where the front door used to be, followed by Dumbledore, the members of the Order of the Phoenix, and a dozen Aurors. Lily Potter stumbled down from the room where she had been locked with James with the help of her wand, which Pettigrew had forgotten by her side. Feeling his forehead ache, Harry began to cry.

The Aurors rapidly formed a perimeter around the house, and the members of the Order went to go fix the wall so that the house wouldn't crumble around them, and another Order member went to go awaken James.

While this was going on, Dumbledore examined the boys. Nicholas had two wounds on his left cheek, little punctures three inches apart. When Dumbledore realized what they were, he called one of the Aurors and ordered that the boy be taken to St. Mungo's. Harry on the other hand looked perfectly fine, except for a scratch on his forehead looked to be caused by some of the rubble. Dumbledore rapidly healed it, but it scarred. Dumbledore wasn't surprised, though - no matter how old and powerful he was, he had never been a skilled healer.

"Where are my children?" cried Lily, and seeing Nick being taken away, she grabbed Dumbledore's arm. "Where is he going? What happened?"

"You put trust in the wrong man," Dumbledore sighed, picking up a blue blanket and wrapping Harry in it. "The young Nicholas is going to St. Mungo's. How is James?"

Lily quickly explained that James was fine, and being looked over by a healer, just as James came down the stairs. He joined their conversation, and the group receded to the mostly undamaged kitchen to discuss what had happened. Harry was forgotten on the couch.

The next day, James, Lily and Dumbledore sat in Dumbledore's private chambers at Hogwarts to discuss the situation. It was a rare case when a family was in such danger that they were hosted at Hogwarts. Generally, a number of Aurors would be responsible for the safety of the family, but the Potters were a special case.

"I must say I am very impressed with Nicholas," said Dumbledore, taking a lemon drop and clicking it on the tongue. "The healers found residue of the killing curse on his skin. Defeating Voldemort and surviving the killing curse at only a year old...you should be proud."

Lily turned red, but James puffed out his chest with pride. It was his son, _his_son, who had defeated Voldemort.

Dumbledore watched the redheaded boy who was asleep in her mother's arms. He could barely walk, but he bore such destiny! Smiling fondly at the boy, he began, "I do not know if it has come to your ears, but Nicholas is being called the Boy Who Lived – even after Voldemort decided to kill him."

Lily and James smiled proudly and stroked Nicholas' hair. "Really?" she commented softly.  
Dumbledore nodded, but his always so brilliant eyes remained opaque for a moment. He could not help but feel guilty for what he was about to say, but the truth should be told. "You see, my dear, I suspect that Voldemort was not one to let himself be defeated by something so simple and yet complex as death." James and Lily blinked, trying to understand what Dumbledore meant. "I fear that Voldemort one day will return. And for this, Nicholas must be ready. "

Tears began to fall from Lily's green eyes and she planted soft kisses on the child, as if this could protect him from all dangers that he would face one day. Feeling the movement, small brown eyes met green, and Lily let a sob escape. No one would take her little Nicholas away, no one.

"Lily, my dear, I know it's hard, but try to understand." Dumbledore walked over to where Lily was sitting and put his hand on the witch's shoulder, showing his support. "Nicholas will be trained by his teachers, and by me. Before entering Hogwarts, he should be able to duel with the fifth year students. His training will continue during his studies and I hope that, by the time he takes his OWLs, Nicholas' skills will be comparable to James'."

Listening to that, James smiled brightly. "That's great! When do we start?" he asked, feeling eager to have the child protected and trained.

Dumbledore smiled, pleased with James' excitement. It would be far easier for Nicholas to have a father who supported his training. That way Nicholas would have a goal of being better than his father, eventually.

"As soon as he begins having accidental magic. Considering Nicholas' power, I'd say in about two years. "

"And the theoretical part should begin as soon as he learns to read, I hope?" Lily said, finally giving her opinion. Even being in Gryffindor, Lily was a bookworm and a supporter of the idea that the theory is the basis of everything.

Dumbledore nodded, and the witch smiled.

**The Boy Who Lived**

by Samantha Skeeter.

_My friends, the war has finally come to an end! This Halloween, You Know Who, in an attempt to exterminate the Potter family (to read more about the family, check page 4), was defeated by Nicholas Potter, a baby only fifteen months old. And baby Nick is not being called The Boy Who Lived without reason: specialists are saying, when defeating You Know Who, Nicholas Potter survived a killing curse! More on page 6…_

The Potters looked fondly at their son, who stared at all the cameras around him, fascinated. Nicholas was special, and their parents would do anything so that one day, he would be ready to fulfill his destiny.

**You've already wasted some minutes to read it. Please waste some more seconds to tell me your thoughts. Anything – Ideas, complaining, flames… **

**Thank you for reading. I hope I'll hear about you all when I post the second chapter. **


	2. The Forgotten Child

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. **

**Beta: CheeseTheNimbleSneeze. **

**Four reviews? I have to say I'm disappointed. What happened to the 11 reviewers I had the last time I posted chapter 1? It seems like people enjoyed the story before it was betaed. Thank you for everyone who has reviewed, favorite and is following this story. **

**I hope you like this chapter, there are some big changes on it. **

CHAPTER 2

The Forgotten Child

1986

"Lumos," spoke Professor Flitwick slowly so that Nicholas understood. The little redhead crossed his arms, refusing to cooperate. His lips were sealed and he did not intend on opening his mouth, not until he got the snitch stuck to the ceiling.

Realizing another method would have to be used, Professor Flitwick said, "Here, Nicholas. If you want that snitch so badly, I'll teach you how to summon it. Say 'Accio'."

Nick did, and though he didn't manage to unstick the snitch from the ceiling, the pronunciation was correct. Sighing, Flitwick summoned it and gave it to the boy.

With that, the class was over, and Nicholas was left alone to play. Unbeknownst to him, jealous green eyes watched the lesson; Harry wanted to learn too. He clenched his little fists until his knuckles turned white, and when Nicholas went outside to play Quidditch, Harry came out of the closet where he was hiding.

He ran to his bedroom, the last door on the left, ready to practice magic. Perhaps, if he was able to make a ball of light or bring an object to him, his parents would like him more.

"Lumos," Harry whispered, looking at the tip of his fingers in hopes that they would begin to shine. "Lumos. Lumos!"

Nothing happened for the next few tries, and Harry started to fear that he really was a squib, like in one of Padfoot's jokes. Of course he had used magic before, to make his arm stop aching after James' punch, and to destroy a window (which is what caused James' punch). But Nick, no, Nick just had to show a sign of knowledge to win a present.

He could bet his soul that, in a few minutes, Nick would win a new snitch, a real snitch, just because he had learnt how to pronounce "accio".

Harry was taken of his thoughts by the sound of the door being opened. Hearing what was being said downstairs, he knew it was his Uncle Moony.

He went downstairs, knowing that Moony always carried a chocolate frog in the pocket of his robes. The twin who came first won the frog. As Nick already had almost the whole collection, Harry made his daily mission to get a new card. At least that he could do.

"Moony!" he shouted, trying not to hug Remus too hard. He was limping again, and Harry suspected that he was still sore from the last full moon.

"Hey, pup," murmured Remus, voice rough. "I brought your frog."

Harry looked at the new card. The chocolate frogs were the least of it, although they were delicious, and Harry would never turn down food (because his parents often forgot to feed him), Harry cared more about the cards. If he completed the collection before Nick, maybe his parents would congratulate him, once in a lifetime.

"Agrippa," whispered Harry in awe. He could not believe his luck. That was one of fourteen cards that his brother hadn't gotten yet! With heart almost out the mouth of happiness, he went to hug Moony, wishing his feelings could be transmitted in that hug.

* * *

"Nick learned two spells today," said James, in his usual place at the table. Every night the Potters, Sirius, and Remus sat together and talked about their day. Everything revolved around Nick, so Harry never cared much about what was said.

That night, however, the words slipped from his mouth before his brain caught up: "And I got Agrippa."

All eyes turned to him. Lily quickly summoned the card from Harry's pocket as the boy grabbed at it. Nick's face lit up at the sight of the card.

Harry knew what was going to happen, but that did not stop him from getting upset. He was losing Agrippa, as he lost everything to his brother.

"No," he growled, leaning on the table until the card was within his grasp. Lily quickly pulled it away, and handed the card to a grinning Nick. "No!" repeated Harry.

One of the candles that illuminated the table faded. The glasses of juice trembled, and with the word "Accio," part of the Agrippa card flew into Harry's hand. Once the card touched the boy's skin, the trembling stopped, and the candle lit again. Until, of course, Nick decided to try to get the card, and tackled his brother. The knives on the table levitated and flung themselves at Nick, whose accidental magic kicked in and threw up a shield. Nick screamed.

Nobody said anything for a moment. Then James stood up, grabbed the front of Harry's shirt, and slapped him across the face as hard as he could. Tears filled Harry's eyes from the pain and the embarrassment; James could cause a great deal of pain when he wanted to, and Harry's vie for attention had resulted in him being punished.

"Nick used magic!" smiled Remus, trying to change the subject.

"Because his life was at risk," Sirius growled, looking at the knives and then giving Harry a venomous look. "His own brother ..."

"I won't tolerate this!" said James said, pushing his chair and standing up. He walked to the fireplace, grabbed some floo powder, stepped into the fireplace, and shouted, "Hogwarts!"

Harry looked at the torn card on his hand. Torn, it was worthless. Just as he was worthless to his parents. The visible mark of a hand could be seen on his face, where the skin was burning red. "I'm sorry," he muttered, not daring to look at his brother.

There was no answer. Lily and Sirius began talking in quick whispers, and Remus soon added in, expressing his opinion with growls. He clearly did not agree with what was being said. The words "accident" was repeated over and over, while Sirius accused the act of being purposeful.

The fireplace burned with green flames, and James returned with Dumbledore.

"Boys, room," ordered Lily, grabbing their hands (squeezing Harry's harder than need be) and leading them up the stairs. After making sure that both were in their rooms, locking Harry in, she went back downstairs. "What should we do, Albus?"

They sat. After a few moments in silence, the old wizard began, his voice slow, grave, "I fear that young Harry is not satisfied to live in the shadows of his brother. He wants the glory for himself, and that is what caused today's demonstration. "

Sirius shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Demonstration was an understatement - Harry had tried to kill his brother. Maybe not kill, he corrected himself, but definitely hurt.

"It was an accident!" protested Remus.

"Certainly there is something we can do ..." began Lily, uncertain. The truth was that neither she knew what to do with a child that hated his brother because of his fame. Having a brother so important could cause resentment, but not enough to cause all this drama.

Dumbledore rubbed his temples. What he was about to say would not be so easily accepted by the Potters. "I strongly suggest we send Harry to an orphanage where he would grow without the envy of having a famous brother. He would have a normal childhood as a muggle, and when the time comes, he would be reestablished in the wizarding world."

Remus's eyes widened in horror. Dumbledore could not just dump Harry in a muggle orphanage, could he? Sending an untrained child with knowledge of magic into the Muggle world was just asking for them to be revealed.

He expressed his opinion to Dumbledore. "That's why I do not intend to let him know of his early life," Dumbledore replied. "Remus, you have always been very good with memory spells. I'm sure you could put locks in the mind of young Harry. "

His wolf side growled. Brainwash Harry? Make him forget his life? At the same time, James and Lily agreed with the idea, and Remus realized that this was a losing battle. It was clear that the two would not want to raise Harry, when there was the possibility of getting rid of him.

Time seemed to slow down. Remus vaguely heard Dumbledore saying that the sooner this was done, the better, and he went upstairs mechanically. When faced with the smaller bedroom door, he wanted to turn and run, run away from Harry, to not hurt him, but it was this or lose the only people who had ever accepted him.

"Harry, it's me," he said, knocking twice before entering. Harry was lying on his bed, staring at the torn card in his hands. Seeing Remus, the scared boy seemed calmer. "Come here."

Remus sat in a chair next to the window and picked Harry up and sat him in his lap. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice calm, lifting Harry's chin.

Once their eyes met Remus sank into Harry's mind without a second thought, and began to block the memories. Terrible memories, filled with sadness and the desire to be recognized. Harry shifted on his uncle's lap, feeling increasingly tired.

Defying Dumbledore's orders, Remus left memories enough for him to know his basic information.

"I love you," Remus said, stroking the boy's forehead before pulling his wand and finishing the process with an "Obliviate". Harry fell asleep in his lap.

Remus grabbed a blanket and tucked it under his arm. He knew no one would find Harry until the next morning, and that particular night was very cold. He would never forgive himself if Harry died because of their carelessness.

Remus came downstairs with the boy in his arms, still asleep. When he arrived in the living room, everyone stood. Sirius would be taking care of Nick, James decided, and the others apparated to Woodsmith orphanage, which Lily had found in the Muggle phone book she kept around the house.

She put Harry in front of the iron gates, covered only by clothes he wore. When dawn broke, she thought, someone would find Harry and he would be accepted into the orphanage.

Without a second glance, she was the first to disapparate back to the mansion. James followed, then Dumbledore, and finally, after covering Harry, Remus followed, leaving the boy alone in the darkness.

* * *

Ms. Morgan went to the door to collect the stack of newspapers that were left for the children, complaining to herself about her leg all the way. She was still young, in her 30s, but she always found a problem. Still, the kids loved her. Ms. Morgan, when not complaining about her nonexistent problems, was an excellent supervisor.

Beside the pile of newspapers, leaning against the bars, there was a covered small body. Ms. Morgan's heart raced, thinking the child had been dumped there after he had been murdered, (which was actually something that had happened before, sickeningly enough) but calmed when she saw that the blanket rising slightly every few seconds. The child was alive.

Ms. Morgan pulled a key from her pocket and ran to open the gate. Not that she wanted another child, quite opposite, she had to look after over thirty children who would probably live with her all their lives, but her heart was soft and she could not let a child die sitting outside the orphanage.

She walked over to the child and lightly touched his face. Cold, but not the death cold that she had felt two or three times before.

"Wake up," she whispered, shaking the boy lightly. He stirred for a few moments before opening his eyes, revealing large green irises.

The boy sat, shivering (it was November, the boy would have died if the blanket was not there), and looked at the woman with frightened eyes. "Where am I?"

A warm smile appeared on Ms. Morgan. "You're at Woodsmith orphanage. What's your name?"

"Harry," he muttered, rubbing his eyes and slowly relaxing. "I live here? My head hurts. What happened?"

Ms. Morgan's eyes widened. The boy didn't know how he had gotten there?

"No," said Ms. Morgan, helping the boy up. She took his little hand and walked with him inside. "But this will be your home now." The few children who were playing in the yard stopped to point. What were those clothes the boy was wearing? Why was he so thin?

They entered the building, and Ms. Morgan went to reception and grabbed a sheet. After completing "Harry" and "Male", she turned to the child and asked, "What's your last name?"

Harry shook his head, clearly disappointed. "I don't know," replied, looking at a card torn in his hand for the first time. Later when he learned to read, he knew that it read "German mystic and alchemist".

"How old are you?"

Harry seemed to think for a while, then responded with a big smile on his face, "Five."

Ms. Morgan sighed. She wrote only 1981, and left the space empty of day and month, as well as the surname. She would have to settle for that.

Grabbing Harry's hand again, they walked up the stairs.

She opened a door, revealing a large room with several bunk beds. Harry counted eleven, but there could be more. They walked to a bed with graying sheets, and Harry assumed that this was his new bed. It was old, very old, but he would have to settle for that.

Ms. Morgan enrolled him in the local public school down the road, and then brought him to Mrs. Wilson, and old woman who had begun volunteering as a nurse at the orphanage when her husband died. She gave him a medical examination and discovered that his left arm was fractured (which, Harry thought, was a pretty good explanation for its constant throbbing). She put his wrist in a splint and gave a pat on the head a lollipop.

During the afternoon, all the children went to the grassy area behind the house to play. When Harry went to join them (because it seemed like a good idea) he was prevented by another assistant, Sue, who insisted that he should wait until Mrs. Wilson gave him the okay to play with his arm.

Harry sat on his bed with his arms crossed. He didn't know if the windows were closed or if it was that he was locked in the same room all day, but it was stuffy inside.

A strong wind suddenly knocked him off the bed, when he wished for it to be cooler. Harry's heart thumped - what was that? He looked around, looking for someone or something to explain the sudden gust of wind. He was alone.

Harry curled up in a ball and stayed there until dinner, when he went downstairs and was introduced to the thirty-seven children living in the orphanage. They said "Hi, Harry" automatically and resumed eating their soup, without paying any attention to the young boy. They never really bothered with paying attention to the new kids; they always came and went in a few weeks.

A few hours later, Harry was drawing when Sue turned the lights out for the night. He pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes; he wanted to keep drawing. And he realized that he could see, even in the dark. Though he didn't know it, his eyes were glittering and glowing, and he went on drawing, never realizing that what he was doing was using a gift that only a select population in the entire world could use. Magic.

**That's it. I hope more peoples review this time. **

**I promise I'll update the day my beta gives me chapter 3 back. If you are one of my old readers, you know that I used to make lots of mistakes so I can't update a chapter without a beta. **

**Of course you cannot do this now, but if you are reading it months later, you can jump the boring part of the fanfic and go to chapter 5. That's when things become cool. **

**Thank you for reading. Please take your time to review. I'd love to know your opinions. Also, the pairing is HP/DG, but it won't happen until Harry's fourth year. Do you think I should change the characters to be Harry Potter & Daphne Greengrass or keep it Harry Potter & Voldemort?**

**I hope I'll see you soon.**

**-Ana. **


	3. Wool's Orphanage

**DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter is not mine. If it was, things would have been way different! **

**Thanks to my amazing beta CheeseTheThimbleSneeze. **

**HEEEY! 12 reviews, thank you everyone who has reviewed, favorite or is following this story! Can I get 15 this time? I love reviews. **

**Ok. I saw I have some Brazilian readers. I just want you who speak Portuguese to know that I have the fanfic in Portuguese in Nyah!Fanfiction.**

**I hope you like this chapter. **

CHAPTER 3

Wool's Orphanage

1986

It was past midnight at Woodsmith orphanage. Everything was quiet except for a small room, which had the only lights on in the house. The silence was broken by hasty and hysterical whispers. They belonged to Sue Williams, and though she was speaking in the lowest voice she could, the words were easily heard by everyone in the room.

"I'm saying he cannot stay here!" she hissed, determined to make her point clear. She had chills every time she looked at that boy, Harry. He was... different. Harry drew the attention of parents because of his polite behavior and his pretty face, but they always opted for a different child. Most parents left Harry's room pale and frightened, and all of them refused to talk about it.

"He is just a child!" Veronica Morgan replied. She held a special affection for Harry - it was not often that she met a child as kind as he was. Looking at Harry and seeing how he dealt with all his bullies always reminded her that there were bigger problems than hers. Harry was an example to be followed, she always thought to herself, amazed by how someone so young and unaware of his early life could be so kind, even though those boys could be so horrible to him. "And we can't kick him out of the orphanage. We have an image to keep!"

Catherine Wilson sighed and looked at the young woman. Unlike herself, Sue was religious to the extreme, would not allow a child "possessed by the devil" stay in the orphanage. She massaged her temples, not wanting to expel a child from the orphanage and at the same time, not wanting to contradict the thirty-year-old. Sue was engaged to a young Lord-to-be, and also knew that Mrs. Wilson had been cheating the system for money ever since her husband died. She could potentially ruin her.

"What do you suggest we do, Sue?" she asked, leaning on the window and looking at the yard where the now forty-two children played in afternoons. His eyes focused on the tree where Harry used to sit reading, usually alone.

"Let's send him to another orphanage!" she replied, as if it were obvious. She held out a list of names to Mrs. Wilson and with a quick glance, she realized that these were orphanages. He recognized most of the names, noting that those orphanages were bigger and with a harsher punishment system. "Maybe a bigger orphanage has more experience. Catherine, you know that we can't keep the boy - he's out of control!"

Veronica Morgan did not respond to that, because she knew it was true. The few times he fought back at the bullies who plagued him at school, he ended up breaking a window, shattering two of the boys' bones, and somehow covering the teacher's aid in glue. She just sat in silence, staring at Veronica Morgan with regret. Veronica cared for the boy, and it would break her heart to send him away. But there was nothing they could do - Sue had made her point, and it was a good one, too. Veronica couldn't keep covering for the boy when he got out of control - which was a lot, actually, for a little boy who seemed to like spending his time reading, and not roughhousing, like the others. For a studious child, a lot of strange things seemed to happen around him.

Veronica seemed to know it too, by the way she stared at the floor and blinked quickly to stop the tears from falling. She had seen the list, and she knew that "harsher punishment" often meant violent methods to mold the children into perfect little angels to make parents pity the children and adopt them as soon as possible.

Veronica Morgan looked at the third name on the list, Wool's Orphanage. It was circled with a red pen and had an arrow pointing to it. Personally, she had never been to the orphanage - it was in London, quite a ways away from Devon, where they were - and she had never heard anything bad about it. She sighed, agreed, and left the office.

EoD

The children had just gotten back from school the next afternoon when Harry saw Ms. Morgan sit on his bed. He carefully put his old backpack on a hook, wondering what he had done wrong.

"Sit down, Harry," said Ms. Morgan, indicating the bed. Her voice trembled, which made Harry worry, but he trusted the woman. She had been very kind to him during the months he had spent there.

"Did I do something wrong, ma'am?" asked Harry, approaching slowly. When the woman shook her head, he relaxed and sat against the wall, waiting for Mrs. Morgan to start talking.

The woman in question swallowed and complained to herself in her mind about how she wasn't cut out to deal with things like this.

"Harry, you know you're special," she began. Harry nodded, already not liking the direction of the conversation. "We don't know exactly how, but... We think this may not be the most suitable place for you."

Harry blinked. He was not sure he understood what Mrs. Morgan was implying. He would go away? Where to? And why?

"We believe that another orphanage will be better for you."

When she finished the sentence, Ms. Morgan closed her eyes and breathed deeply. That was harder than it looked. She should not have favorites, but Harry definitely had a special place in her heart.

"You're sending me away?" asked Harry, trying not to cry. He could not believe it. He was being abandoned again, by people that had promised to find a home for him.

"It will be better for you," repeated Mrs. Morgan, as if trying to convince herself of that. "Pack your things. Tomorrow morning, you'll be taken to your new home."

She got up and left before Harry could have a chance to see her cry. She rubbed at her tears, trying to hold herself together so that none of the children would see her in her moment of weakness.

Harry watched the door close and clenched his fists, staring at the wall. He refused to cry.

EoD

The next day, Harry was packed into a car and driven to London. They stopped outside a five story high, dreary brick building with a lawn made of more dirt than grass out front, hidden behind an iron fence.

As he walked through the gates, the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees. Harry stopped walking, noticing the difference between his old home and his new one, but the insistent hand of Sue Williams made him keep going.

A woman was waiting for them on the steps. She had a stern face, and her graying brown hair was pulled into a tight bun on the back of her head. Harry could tell that they were not going to get along.

"Harry," Sue said, pushing him forward and wiping her hands on her pants, "this is Mrs. Hudges. She is the caretaker here. Mrs. Hudges," she said to the woman, with a nod of her head, "watch this one." And then she turned on her heel and walked back to the car.

Mrs. Hudges looked down at Harry with a cold smile. "Boy," she said, and then grabbed him by his shoulder and practically dragged him inside. She led them into an office at the end of the main hall and sat him down in a wooden chair in front of what Harry supposed was her desk. "We do not tolerate trouble making at this institution. Any tomfoolery is met with swift punishment. I have my eye on you." She glared down at him, and Harry did his best to keep his face straight. This woman would not intimidate him.

"Stand up!" Mrs. Hudges barked, grabbing Harry's shoulder. She directed them up the staircase they had passed in the main hall, and they climbed to the second floor of the building. She walked him to a room marked number 27 and opened the door.

"This is your new room," announced Mrs. Hudges, showing him a small-ish room with twin beds with iron bed frames, two wardrobes, and a table with a three legged stool. The walls were painted a graying white, and Harry thought he could see what looked like a shoe mark near the ceiling. There was one window between the beds; it was dirty and its blue-ish curtains were fading and fraying.

"You don't have a roommate yet - the last one to have this room got adopted a few days ago. Breakfast is at seven o'clock on school days, seven-thirty on weekends and during school break, lunch is at one in the afternoon if you're not eating at school, and dinner is at seven in the evening. If you're not on time you won't get any food, so don't be gettin' up late," she said, giving him a hard look.

"Yes, ma'am," he said automatically, and she gave him a glare before leaving.

Harry sat down on the bed, and it creaked. It was a lot harder than his old bed, and he could feel the springs in it. He doubted he could even jump on it without waking the whole orphanage.

After shoving the clothes he had brought from Woodsmith one of the wardrobes, he wasted no time in leaving the room and exploring the orphanage. He learned that there were five floors, with the first just having the main hallway, office, cafeteria, kitchen, infirmary, study room, a bathroom, and a living room that later he would learn was where people who wanted to adopt met the children. The other four were filled with rooms. Each floor had twelve rooms, ten for the orphans, a bathroom, and a room for a caretaker. The boys were on the second and third floors and on the fourth and fifth were the girls. There was also a basement, where old records and extra junk were kept.

The place was in disrepair, with peeling walls, cracks and rusty hinges, but every room smelled of disinfectant but the basement, which just smelled of damp. All children who Harry passed by wore gray shirts with the word "Wool's" embroidered on the sleeves and black slacks. Harry had found two of those uniforms in his wardrobe.

Throughout his exploration of the building, Harry did not see a single friendly face. It seemed that as much as he did not want to be a Wool's, the people at Wool's did not want him to be there more.

EoD

October of 1987

Harry's alarm rang exactly at six in the morning. Unlike some of the other children, he did not laze in bed, because if he did, the hot water would end, and he hated taking showers with cold water.

With surprising speed, he grabbed a set of clothes and his towel. At the bathroom door there was a line of three boys waiting to take a shower.

"Your turn, stupid," sneered John, a ten year old. As Harry walked by, John stepped on Harry's foot, and jeered, "Is it true that you're so stupid you don't even know your last name?"

In response, Harry slammed the door of one of the three shower stalls and started to wash.

After taking his shower, Harry hurried down to the first floor to get his breakfast, smelling the increasingly strong smell of disinfectant. Mrs. Hudges seemed to think she could compensate the poor state of the building with disinfectant that made the orphanage smells like a hospital.

He finished his cereal and, as routine, tried to remember something of his life from before being woken up by Ms. Morgan, more than a year ago. All he could really remember were yellow eyes, which did not really help all that much, when what he really wanted to know was his surname. If he knew his surname then maybe he could find a relative who would adopt him, and take him away from the orphanage.

Harry realized John was staring at him. That was not good. He hurried out of the cafeteria, heading towards his room.

"Hey!" Harry heard John shout. Harry went faster. His room wasn't so far, and if he got there in time he could lock the door and then he would be safe, and maybe even still get to school on time... "HEY! I'M TALKING TO YOU!"

Harry had just gotten to his room when a fist hit him in the back and he fell, scraping his hands as he braced his fall. He rolled over and saw John's face, before he closed his eyes in pain when John kicked him in the ribs.

Oh, he definitely wasn't getting to school on time today.

EoD

When Harry got back to the orphanage from school, he noticed what he hadn't when he left - a dried pool of blood near the wall, probably from when his nose had started bleeding after John had punched it.

First, Harry decided that he would clean the floor, but then he realized that he needed something to remove the blood, and the only thing he had were his clothes, and his towel was in the wash. Instead, he decided to move the wardrobe to cover the stain.  
It took almost half an hour to move the wardrobe. Harry spent the first fifteen minutes futilely trying to push the wardrobe, but it did not budge an inch. Then he remembered - he was a freak. He could use his powers.

_Be light_, Harry thought, staring at the bed, before trying to push it again. He couldn't tell if it was any lighter than before, but he kept pushing until he felt exhausted and dropped his head against the side of the wardrobe. His powers were fickle. Want to turn a light on or move a pencil with just a thought? Sure! Want to do something important with his powers? Not going to happen.

Trying one last time, Harry pushed the bed, putting all his frustration into it. Something tingled inside him, and to his surprise, the wardrobe moved.

Quickly, he moved the wardrobe over the stain, and when he finished, he sat on the floor with a big smile on his face. He had done it. Finally he had done something big with his powers, and on purpose, too!

Harry looked at the newly uncovered patch of floor. It was covered by a layer of dust, and Harry wondered how long it had been since someone had cleaned under the wardrobe. As he stood up, he stepped on one of the uncovered floorboards and felt it slide.

Curious, he lifted the board, and, under cobwebs, there was a small wooden box, with the name T. M. Riddle on the lid. The box was of poor quality, but it had a lock. Concentrating, Harry placed his hand on the lock. He smiled when he heard it click. Inside the box he found an old book, with yellowed, torn, and loose pages.

Carefully opening it, Harry picked a random page and started reading.

_October 29, 1934_

_Today I got the cane because I used my powers against that Liz girl. She practically asked for it, I swear. She tripped me during break today, and laughed. So I made her fall too. Down the stairs. They couldn't even prove that it was me, but they caned me anyway. I really hate them._

A contemplative look crossed Harry's face. He had never thought of using his powers to get revenge. He thought about how John could suffer for all his punches and held in a laugh. Harry did not want to seem freakier than he already was. Because what he did was a freakish, right? That was what Mrs. Hudges, John and all the others said.

But who was T. M. Riddle? With that question in mind, Harry read other entries until the lights went out. Despite knowing he could keep reading if he wanted to, Harry went to bed because he had school the next day. If he did wake up earlier than usual, he could question workers about the identity of T. M. Riddle.

EoD

Harry did get up early the next morning. It was only five a.m. when he got in the shower, befor he headed downstairs to start interrogating.

Soon he spotted his target: One of the oldest employees, Mrs. Swass.

"Mrs. Swass…" Harry began, trying to sound as nervous as possible. "I was wondering... No, never mind."

He turned to leave, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Harry hid a smile; his plan was working.

"No, Harry. What do you know?" She asked in a kind voice. Harry knew he had made the right choice. "Maybe I can help you."

"I don't want to bother you, ma'am," lied Harry with the sweetest voice he could. Seeing the look of pity of the old woman, he wanted to jump in place, but restrained himself. He really wanted to find out who was T. M. Riddle.

"Ask," insisted Mrs. Swass. "It won't do any harm."

"Have you ever heard of a boy named Riddle?"

Mrs. Swass swallowed. Of course she had heard the stories, oh, the stories about the boy, Tom Riddle. Ms. Cole was always talking about him when she was drunk. She always told awful stories about him; she said that he stole from the other children and that he had had special powers that he used to hurt the other children, even strangle a rabbit! When she had first heard the stories she had lost sleep over them, before finally deciding that Ms. Cole's stories must be just that - stories, and there was probably nothing strange whatsoever about Tom Riddle.

Harry coughed to get her attention, and Mrs. Swass blinked rapidly before answering, "He was an orphan. His first name was Tom, and he got a scholarship to some fancy boarding school up in Scotland. When the war ended, he vanished. We've never heard from him again."

Harry's hopes plummeted. Could T. M. Riddle be dead? He could not believe it. Riddle also had powers, and if he was alive, he might adopt Harry. People who had powers should help each other. Still, Harry smiled brightly and thanked Mrs. Swass, telling her that he was going to go have breakfast.

His next destination? The basement.

**Nothing actually happens here, but he finds Tom Riddle's box. This is my explanation to how Harry stopped being the sweet boy and became, well, you'll see. **

**Please, reviews. Tell me what you like, what you don't, and what I have to do to write better. Or just write **_**hey**_**. Reviews = me pushing beta to edit chapter 4 faster. **

**Also, I need ideas. Going to Hogwarts, what should Harry talk about with his friends? **

**Thank you for reading, **

**-Lady Slytherin of Camelot. **

**PS: I'm changing it back to Harry Potter & Voldemort because romance is a tiny part of this fanfic. I repeat, this isn't a slash.  
**


	4. The Boy Who Knew

**So, first of all, I apologize. It took longer than I expected, but it's here now. I'd like to give a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed – and of course who has favorited and followed this fanfic, but I love feedback. I got a review from a guest and I feel like I have to answer it for you all: **

**GUEST: Lily, James and Sirius didn't seem as reluctant to give Harry away as Remus. So I'll say this once, do not bash parts of a group of friends.**

**ANA: I know. I'm just going to make Remus pity him for a while, but he will not be dark. Well, not… I'll stop talking. I don't want to tell what's going to happen. **

**GUEST: He belongs as Voldemorts highly valued servant, sure Voldemort can teach him some tricks since he will bring him back, maybe even take him as a pupil. But don't take it too far.**

**ANA: I won't. He is Voldemort servant and nothing more (unless lots of people want them to become family, but I'm unable to write slash)**

**GUEST: And don't have Harry's brother, nor Harry, start at 5th year level.**

**ANA: I won't. Nicholas starts Hogwarts knowing 1****st**** year tricks and Harry, 3****rd**** year tricks, but he won't show that because he doesn't want attention for himself. **

**GUEST: Another thing, make sure you treat muggles as the filth they are, and don't be nice to the mudbloods either. And don't make Harrys brother a super-dick.**

**ANA: I will, I'll try and I won't. **

**To the chapter!**

CHAPTER 4

THE BOY WHO KNEW

The basement was the complete opposite of the rest of the building. It was dusty and looked like it had been centuries since someone was there. Stacks of papers occupied the large room, and after using his powers to open the door, Harry did not know where to start looking.

He assumed that, logically, the older files were at the back, so he started there. He looked at the date: 1887.

Harry ran his fingers through his files to find 1934, when the first note dated he had found. A few years after that date, realized Harry, there were many more orphans, and he wondered how many parents had suddenly died.

After a few moments, Harry spotted the letter R on one of the files and skimmed through it to find the name Riddle. Tom! Tom was the name of the mysterious boy with powers. Tom Marvolo Riddle. Before he could celebrate his victory, however, Harry heard footsteps and quickly hid behind one of the filing cabinets.

The lights were on and Harry looked to see who the other intruder was. It was Mrs. Swass, and she looked around the room as if she was searching for someone. Harry held his breath and waited for Mrs. Swass to go away, but she did not seem to be leaving soon. In fact, she was walking closer and closer to Harry and the boy began to worry. The basement was off limits. What if he got caught?

"I know there's someone here," she said, looking behind the filing cabinets near her, "and I'm not leaving until I find you."

Harry began to tremble, and Tom Riddle's file fell from his hands. Mrs. Swass jumped and started for where Harry was hiding. Harry's heart seemed to have suddenly gained the desire to exit his body through his mouth. He was going to be caught, and likely get the cane.

All he wanted was to get out of there. With a gasp, he felt like he was being squeezed into a tight tube and at the same time, being pulled apart at the seams. Harry wanted to scream, but he found out that his lips were glued shut. And, just as suddenly as it started, it ended. Harry, hearing noises that certainly weren't there before, opened his eyes (which had closed involuntarily) and saw that he was no longer in the basement. He was on the lawn of the orphanage, hidden in an alcove. He stumbled out from behind it to see younger kids playing ball a few feet away.

"Harry!" yelled Mrs. Hudges, stalking towards him. Harry feared for a moment that she had seen what had happened, but he quickly found out that she was angry for a different reason. "You should be in school! Why aren't you? You don't look sick!"

"Uh..."

"Why aren't you in school?" she demanded.

Harry bit his lower lip. What would he say now? Skipping school was as likely to get him the cane as sneaking into the basement was.

"I was at the library," lied Harry, pretending looking at his feet guiltily. Losing a school day wouldn't hurt. Most of his class was still getting the hang of reading, while Harry was reading books (and notes and files) without any problem. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hudges."

"Well, then get to your room!" ordered Mrs. Hudges, pointing to the door. "And stay there!"

Harry shot toward the door, knowing an opportunity when he saw one.

It was only when Harry got to his room and started looking through the notes again that he realized that in his hurry to leave, he had forgotten Tom Riddle's file in the basement. He wanted to beat his head against a wall – he had almost been caught, and the file was still there.

He knew that nothing could be done now with Mrs. Swass probably watching the basement with eagle eyes. She had nearly caught him, and if she found Riddle's file, it wouldn't be much of a leap to think that he was the intruder.

Deciding that his best option would be to go back into the basement when everyone was asleep, Harry grabbed a notebook and began to write his own notes.

"My name's Harry. I'm seven, and I can't remember what happened to me before I came to the orphanage. Weird things happen around me. The other day I found an old book that belonged to a boy named Tom Riddle. He was strange like me, too.

"The other kids like to bully me. The kick me and punch me, but one day I'll be the one hurting them."

* * *

The clock had just tolled midnight when Harry got up and snuck down to the basement. The stairs creaked with every step, and in Harry's opinion it took forever to get there.

"Great, Harry," he murmured, seeing that the door was locked again. "You made Mrs. Swass paranoid."

It took almost twenty minutes to get Harry to control his powers enough to unlock the door. He supposed that he probably looked like an idiot standing there and staring at a door knob with his face screwed up, but it wasn't like anyone was around to see him. When the door opened, Harry immediately headed towards where Tom Riddle's file was, or should be.

Mrs. Swass had found the file.

"Light!" he whispered, and after two attempts a ball of light appeared in the palm of his hand. With it, he searched the room, and half an hour later, he finally gave up hope that the file was still there.

The failure didn't make Harry give up though. Harry extinguished the light and snuck up to the third floor, where Mrs. Swass roomed. Harry felt a slight smirk creep over his face as he used his powers to unlock her door.

The files were on the desk, and Harry quickly snatched them up. After ensuring that Mrs. Swass was still asleep, he locked the door and slipped back to his room, quiet as a mouse.

* * *

Harry let out a sigh of relief as he shut the door of his room behind him. He really was quite tired, but he had put too much into this venture just to wait till morning to read Tom Riddle's file. He opened it, and read:

_1927: Exemplary child. Doesn't cry, and seems to develop more quickly than the others of his age group._

_1928: Mr. Riddle is walking smoothly and starting to talk._

_1929: Has a mastery of complex sentences._

_1930: Mr. Riddle doesn't seem to play much with other children, but this does not seem to be affecting his development. He may just be shy._

_1931: Despite being an attractive child, perspective parents seem to have no wish to adopt him. This does not seem to bother Tom much, though. Note: Check to make sure Tom is not purposefully driving parents away. Remind him of the importance of getting him adopted into a family._

_1932: Mr. Riddle stands out in all his classes, but still seems to be lacking any friends._

_1933: Tom has been the victim of many attempts at bullying by the other children. Things have a tendency to break around him when he gets angry._

_1934: Mr. Riddle is no longer welcome at church after burning a cross._

_1935: Mr. Riddle has undergone psychiatric testing at school along with the rest of his classmates. His test scores are worrying._

_1936: On an outing to the beach, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop disappeared with Mr. Riddle, only to be found incapacitated in a nearby cave. Mr. Riddle denies any involvement._

_1937: Mr. Riddle is under suspect for the strangling of another child's pet rabbit. Mr. Riddle denies any involvement in the incident, along with another incident that resulted in the shattering of all of the lights down the second-floor hallway._

_1938: A gentleman called Professor Dumbledore has informed us that Mr. Riddle has been accepted to a boarding school in Scotland, called something like Hogwarts._

Harry stopped reading when he saw the name Dumbledore. Why did that name sound so familiar? He was sure he had heard it before, just like the name Hogwarts, but when he tried to think about it, his mind went blank.

He closed his eyes and concentrated. He nearly jumped when he felt his powers start flowing through his veins, but settled back onto the bed. The next thing he knew, he was in a different place entirely.

_Snow fell on Potter Manor. They had just moved back to the ancestral home, after signing over the house in Godric's Hollow to the Ministry to make it a national landmark. It was the first Christmas they were celebrating in the new house._

_The boys were sitting side by side under the tree which was lit up with fairy lights. Fake snow fell from the ceiling, and the gifts were floating out of reach of the two boys, so that they wouldn't sneak and open them too soon._

_Sirius and James were chatting animatedly on the couch... Lily was cooking breakfast, and Remus was sitting on the windowsill, reading a book._

_"All right!" said Lily, returning from the kitchen with a huge smile on her face. She sat next to the boys and with a flick of her wand, the presents floated to the floor in front of Nick. "Let's start. Open this, dear!" she encouraged, pushing the present closer to her son._

_Nick tore the package open to find a red dragon plushie that roared and blew fake fire. He laughed, delighted with the gift, and cuddled the dragon. It would be a good replacement for the snitch, Lily had decided, determined not to have her son be as crazed about Quidditch as his father was._

_James then gave Harry his gift. It was a baby book with moving pictures - too young for a boy Harry's age. Pointedly ignoring Remus' questioning look, they continued opening their presents, James and Lily figuring that Harry could just share some of the better toys that Nick kept opening up._

The memory ended and Harry found himself in his bed again. For the first time in weeks, his smiled a real smile. He didn't take long to connect the dots. If his family was in the Potter's manor, he was a Potter. The man who looked like him was called James, his little brother was Nick and the only red headed in the room was called Lily. Padfoot was his godfather, but Harry preferred Moony. Padfoot's loud laugh hurt Harry's ears, and he preferred his uncle's silence.

His head hit his pillow and Harry let out a happy sigh. He had had, for some time, a house. A family. Harry was not a John Doe, he used to belong to a good family that had money and was happy.

Harry barely had time to explore the memory. Sleep overtook him quickly.

That night, however, his dreams weren't a complete darkness. He had such a vivid dream, and it somehow made so much sense that Harry realized it wasn't a dream, it was another memory.

_Harry and Nick flew on brooms behind a Snitch. There were spells around the Quidditch pitch that prevented the little ball from going too far or too fast. Harry was especially excited because this was the first time he had been invited to play with his brother. After a close race, Harry caught the Snitch, leaping off his broom to reach the golden ball._

_"It's not fair!" shouted Nick, throwing the broom away and running at Harry with his hands balled into little fists. "The snitch is MINE!"_

_The two fell rolling on the lawn punching, kicking and scratching. However, it only lasted a moment, before Harry gave up and went limp, knowing that even if he won he'd still get in trouble. He took one more kick in the shin before Nick went sobbing his father. "Daddy..."_

_"Harry, give the snitch to Nick," ordered James, his hands on Nick's shoulders. Harry's hands tightened on the snitch, wanting to crush it, but James came over to him and pried open his fingers, holding them open a little too far, causing Harry to whimper._

_"Here, honey," said James with a soft voice, handing the snitch to Nick as if it were an award._

When he opened his eyes to his room at the orphanage, he remembered. That was the day, after a heated discussion, it was decided that Harry would not share a bedroom with his brother. He was moved to the smallest room in the house, and after that Harry started talking less and less with Nicholas.

* * *

Harry had just come back from school and he was going to his room to leave his bag when he had to stop himself from falling over. He was dizzy, very dizzy, and the colors in his vision mixed together until he was seeing a scene entirely different from that at the orphanage.

_They were at McGonagall's house, seated at a long table. There were about twenty members or more, all in silence. It was the anniversary of the day the Longbottoms had been tortured into madness. Everyone counted their son Neville lucky that he had happened to be visiting his grandmother when the Death Eaters had attacked._

_"Thank you, everyone, for coming," said Dumbledore, after a pause. He looked around at everyone who was gathered there, before saying, "I have good news, despite what a horrible day this day marks. The sentence for Barty Crouch Junior has been decided: The Wizengamot has convicted him to a life sentence in Azkaban."_

_James and Sirius exchanged glances and started clapping loudly. Sirius, who had helped in the investigation, seemed especially happy with the news. More than was appropriate, given the nature of such news. Sirius looked ready to climb on the table and dance to celebrate._

_The focus of the meeting then began switching between various topics, until almost three hours later, when the members finally began to apparate away._

_"Everybody ready?" asked James, holding his redheaded baby tighter in his arms. He did not even want to think what might happen if he let go of the baby during an apparition. "Alright, then."_

_With pops, the small group disapparated, leaving a three years old boy alone, curled up asleep in a corner._

And Harry realized that yes, he remembered that. He had woken up a few hours later by McGonagall, who grumbled about stupid parents who had forgotten their son at a meeting. Moony was the one who took him home; later Harry learned that his parents had brought Nick to the Diagon Alley and had completely forgotten Harry's presence at the meeting. They had not even thought to check to make sure he was with them.

He felt someone bump into him, and when he heard the growl, Harry cursed his luck. The longest he could seem to go without these meetings was only two days, though Harry wished it could have been more.

"You little freak!" John exclaimed, lifting Harry up by his collar. "I'll teach you to get out of my way!"

Harry remained silent, knowing that anything he said would more than likely make it worse. A fist hit his nose with a sickening smack and blood started to drip. Broken, no doubt. Harry had lost count of how many times John had broken his nose.

"You're such a worthless freak," John continued, pressing his hand against Harry's throat, "they should burn you."

The boy closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that it was all a dream and he would wake up and everything would be fine. Yet he knew there was no escaping it, the beating would end only when John was satisfied. Harry's head throbbed with pain. At least, he thought, John's blows were getting weaker and far between. He was getting tired, which meant it was almost over.

Harry's head was swimming when John laughed again, taking another kick at him. "Nothing you do will help you!" He paused, and after a few seconds of thought, he narrowed his eyes and added, "And don't you dare go to the infirmary. I'll know, and I'll make you regret it."

He left, leaving Harry alone. The younger boy thought about getting up, but decided against it. He could always get up later - for now he would sit here. He was kind-of tired.

He closed his eyes to stop the tears from falling. Crying didn't help, it didn't make John stop, and it didn't make punches stop hurting.

Harry managed a smile. He could feel the effects of a memory coming on. Maybe it would be a good one.

_"You saw what you did?" growled James, pulling Harry by his shirt sleeve to look at the broken window. "See? And look where the broken glass fell!" With a shove, Harry was hanging half out the window, to see the shards of broken glass littered around the back stoop..._

_He didn't know why he was being punished. The glass broke on its own - he didn't do anything! He'd only been frustrated because he couldn't perform the spell, "Wingardium Leviosa" and levitate a feather. He had been so excited when he had done it before, but when he tried to show his father, the feather hadn't done anything, but the glass had broken._

_He was blamed for the broken window, and had gotten a punch from his father and a slap from his mother for his efforts, and then gotten locked in his room without dinner. But before his father locked the door, he said something that had lingered in Harry's mind for weeks:_

_"I cannot believe that I could have a son as stupid and worthless as you."_

* * *

_It's easy to make other people hurt_, Tom Riddle had written on the yellowed page. I _just focus on the person and force them to. The more I want them to hurt, the more they do._

Harry looked out the window and spotted John, and quickly made his way downstairs.

"John," Harry said, with a cold look on his face. John did not even look up; he just continued to kick the soccer ball against the wall. "John!" repeated Harry, this time louder. When there was no reply, he focused on John's neck and a few moments later, the older boy jumped, slapping his hand where it seemed a bee had just stung him.

"What do you want?" John snarled, massaging his reddening neck.

"Nothing," said Harry simply, sitting on the grass and staring at John with cold green eyes.

"Fine. Whatever, freak," replied John, rolling his eyes and returning to kicking the ball against the wall.

Harry pursed his lips and glared at the ball. A moment later the ball burst, and John turned to Harry, furious.

"What'd you do, you little freak?" John demanded, stalking toward him with his fists curled.

"I would not do that if I were you ..." said Harry, looking up at him.

"Like you can stop me," John snarled, raising his fist.

Harry smiled coldly.

* * *

Around lunch time, John was found sprawled, unconscious on the lawn by an older girl. Some of the other children managed to haul him to the infirmary, where the nurse was shocked to find that his right arm was broken, along with his left leg and kneecap.

I wonder how this could have happened, she thought, as she explained the situation to another worker and got ready to take John to the hospital to get his bones set.

Nobody noticed Harry, lingering in the doorway of the infirmary with a satisfied look on his face.

**Is anyone else tired about Harry in a orphanage? Me too! That's why he meets Nagini and escapes the next chapter, so be sure to review, and I'll upload as fast as possible for you! But for that….**

**Review. Please. I was hoping I could reach 100 reviews with this chapter *puppy eyes* **

**I hope I'll see you soon. Chapter 10 is almost ready, by the way. **

**-Lady Slytherin of Camelot. **


	5. The Speaker

**I am so so sorry. I had to find a new beta (the amazing ****_Marwana_****, check out her work if you haven't already) 45 days AFTER I send chapter five to old beta. Anyway, I'm sorry, alright, thanks for the reviews. **

**This is not going to be abandoned. I promise. It may take a while for me to update it because of the transation and correction, but I plan on starting chapter 22 (yes, 22) today. If I realize I won't be able to update everything, I'll finish the first year and stop. **

**Oh, before I forget: I saw a fanfic who looked like A LOT like mine, and I have to say, I don't like it. It's called The Forgotten Twin, by keval10. Give me your opinions. Am I right to be upset or it could be just a huge coincidence? **

**Hugs to everyone to favourited, reviewed and is following this story. Here is the chapter:**

CHAPTER 5  
THE SPEAKER  
1988

All seemed well at Wool's Orphanage. The structure began to improve with the donation of a company, the children were becoming smarter with schools improving every day, and there was a pale sun in the sky, barely lighting the dry grass caused by winter but that made the kids happy. Everyone used the opportunity to play and look adorable for parents. That is, almost everyone.

Harry was sitting on a rock along the railings leading to the outside world. He sighed. It wouldn't take long for him to turn ten. Some years, yes, but not an eternity. Once he reached his tenth birthday, Harry could spend the weekends away from the orphanage, with the condition that he was back on Monday. His hands gripped the bars tightly, and he noticed a girl walking happily with parents outside (of the terrain of the orphanage). It was not exactly what he wanted, but ... Anything would be better than his current life.

A basketball almost hit Harry's head, but with his improved reflexes (how can a child who had been beaten daily for a year not have good reflexes?) he managed to deflect the ball, levitating it and making it drop on the other side. The ball dribbled a few times and stopped. Harry turned to the children who had thrown the ball, and kept a neutral expression on his face despite wanting to laugh at their misery. They had asked for it.

Harry pressed his face against the bars, remembering the moments, many years ago, when he had been loved by his family. How could they not see that what had happened was an accident? All he wanted was to have a family. No, not any family. His nights were filled with dreams where he met with Tom and they hugged. In others, dreams became nightmares where Tom said that nobody, not even a wizard would want someone like Harry.

His thoughts were interrupted by a hiss that came from under the rock he was sitting on. Harry lifted his legs, suspecting that the hiss came from a snake, and waited patiently to see it.

So cold ...

Harry nodded, agreeing with the voice. In fact, it was very cold. The thin coat he wore did nothing to prevent the chills. Harry had tried to heat the stone, but he noticed that either he would freeze, or burn. And he was not willing to burn because of something he did.

Harry stopped. Where had the voice come from? Narrowing his eyes, he replied in a soft voice which hadn't been used for many years: "Indeed."

Harry watched curious when a snake with green scales came out from under the rock and looked at him with small black eyes. The snake circled Harry, its forked tongue flicked out, and it commented with surprise: "You speak!"

"Of course I speak!" muttered Harry as he crossed his arms. "I'm not mute."

The snake shook its head sideways as if laughing at the stupidity of the boy. It approached him, curling up on Harry's right leg and sighing with the heat. It wasn't in the snake's mind - not even for a moment - to eat the boy; he could talk to her, and the snake would love to talk to someone else. Especially someone who could provide her warmth.

"Foolish boy" it hissed. "You speak with me. Until now I have found only one other person who could speak with me."

Harry didn't understand. Maybe it was the fact that the snake had wrapped him up to his waist, or perhaps because, well, he was talking to a snake, but they were just talking. Harry was sure that any child from the orphanage could talk to the snake. Unless ...

"Only people with powers can talk to you?"

"No." Feeling the boy's stiffness, the snake contradicted to curl back only on his leg. "Only Parselmouths can talk to me."

Parsel… It was not easy for Harry to be surprised with a new word, because he spent all his free time reading and studying to remain the best in class, no, the best in the orphanage, but he hated to admit he had never heard that name before.

He would do something he hadn't done in a long time. He would ask a question. "What is a Parselmouth?"

"Someone who speaks Parseltongue." The snake rolled its eyes, as if it was obvious. And Harry realized that the words that came out of the mouth of the snake were not English, the only language he knew. Something inside him seemed to break. Harry did not know if he wanted to be the only other Parselmouth that the snake knew. That would make it more difficult for Harry to be adopted.

He shifted uncomfortably, and gathering up his courage, the boy removed the snake from his leg. It hissed, angry because the loss of heat, but let the boy pull it off.

"I gotta go" murmured Harry, listening to his words. It was strange. Definitely not English, yet he understood everything that came out of his and the snake's mouth.

Once free of the long green snake, Harry ran. He ran faster than he had ever run in his life, until he arrived in his room. He closed the door and locked it with a hand movement (one of the tricks he appreciated to do the most) and after ensuring that no one could get in there, Harry removed Tom Riddle's box from under the bed and frantically searched for something that had Parselmouth on it.

Harry did not find anything with the word, but his eyes spotted the word snake several times. After separating the notes, Harry was faced with something that soothed his heart:

Snakes talk to me. They say I'm special. I found a snake in the yard today, we had a nice talk before Mrs. Cole picked it up and killed her with a kitchen knife. She ignores me most of the time, but she does not accept freakyness at the orphanage.

Harry smiled, feeling calmer. If Tom spoke with snakes it wasn't a bad thing. Rather, it meant that the two had something else in common, not just magic. He knew, with the knowledge of a seven years old, that it wasn't healthy to have such a huge adoration for someone he didn't know, but what could he do? Tom Riddle had taught him everything Harry knew, and ensured his survival in the orphanage. Without him, Harry would be lost. With sorrow in his heart, he remembered that liking Tom Riddle wouldn't hurt. He was probably dead, and even if he wasn't, why would he want anything to do with Harry? The boy was sure there were other people who could fill the hole of Tom's apprentice better.

Nevertheless, the next day after school Harry went back to the same stone he had met the snake the day before, shivering all the while. If someone could tell Harry about the wizarding world, it would be a snake. And knowledge was power.

Once there, the snake was waiting for him, trying to keep its body warm, even with the light rain. It lifted its head and slid down the boy's leg, almost sighing with the newly-found comfort, and hissed: "You came back."

"So did you" replied Harry, taking liberty to stroke the snake's head with trembling fingers. It was good to show some sort of emotion for someone. For years Harry had perfected his mask, and dropping it for a moment when no one could manipulate him was a welcome change.

Talking, Harry discovered that the snake's name was Nagini. She used her name with pride, always straightening up when the name was repeated. Nagini. Harry savored the name, it seemed somehow Parseltongue translated into English. He was unwilling to give his full name, so he simply said his name was Harry. If the snake would not say what her last name was (and Harry ignored the fact that the snake did not have one), Harry would not give any additional information that could be used against him.

"What are you doing here?" He said, allowing himself to relax, even when he could be about to be strangled by Nagini.

"I'm looking for a body," replied the snake as if it were a normal task assigned to reptiles.

Harry blinked in surprise. He was used to many things over the years, but never in his life had he heard of a snake looking for bodies. The boy wondered what was the body for. Food, perhaps?

"Maybe you could look in the cemetery," Harry said with a small smile. He loved giving smart answers, perhaps because he hadn't been able to say them for long. "And if you need someone alive, you have this orphanage full of babes to choose from."

Nagini began to explain that it couldn't be just any body. The one chosen to be given to her master had to be a strong, powerful body full of life to be taken. Harry shrugged, realizing he could not help his new friend on the task. Children of Wool's were weak, stupid and annoying. None of them would serve Nagini's purpose.

The snake of course didn't mention that Harry could be the body she was looking for until a better one was found. If he hadn't been a Parselmouth, she was sure he would have been a victim of her venom. But she had a strange connection with the boy she had only felt before with the dark lord, and with every word that the two exchanged, it was clear that Harry was a little Death Eater.

It began to rain harder and thunder and lightning bolts made their presence know, and Harry knew he had to get out of there soon or he'd get a cold. Yet he continued to stroke the snake, not wanting to leave his only company to return to his lonely room.

"I should be going" sighed Harry, removing the snake from his arm and placing her on the floor before she had time to hiss a complaint. "I don't want to get scolded by Mrs. Hudges."

And that's when the proposal came.

"You don't need to stay here." Nagini went to the bars, where a snake of her size could easily pass through. Not a boy of Harry's size, but the two agreed that if he needed to escape somewhere, it was better to have the work started. "Come with me. My master will meet you and give you a home. "

That was a tempting offer. It wasn't an opportunity that was offered to him every day, and ... He could leave Wool's. No matter how Nagini's master was, he would have a house. A house, he repeated to himself. Where no one would get rid of him.

His cunning jumped before he could respond. "How do I know that it's not a trap?"

The snake shook its head as if that idea was impossible to imagine. With a wise voice, she replied: "And what kind of trap would be worse than the one you are currently living in?"

It finally sunk in Harry's head. He would go away, he needed to go. They agreed to meet at night, sometime where everyone was distracted. That would give Harry time to gather his things, have a decent meal and rest. According to Nagini, it would be a long trip, but that did not influence Harry's decision. A home away from the orphanage.

The boy walked quietly into the room, doing his best not to attract attention to himself on his way in. It worked, the few people who saw him retreated with fear or just didn't want to spend time with someone who didn't deserve their attention. Harry did not complain. Back in his room, he chose the best clothing he had (which, unfortunately, was the orphanage's uniform) and ripped the symbol denouncing where he came from the best he could with nails and teeth. Then he went to take a hot shower. Harry did not know what would be a "long journey" to a snake, but maybe he wouldn't have a shower so early. Better safe than sorry, he thought as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the water that fell on his body.

Dinner couldn't pass more slowly. Even eating everything he could (which was not much) not too fast, he finished before the other orphans and had to stare at the wooden table for ten minutes before they all got up and went to their rooms. Taking advantage of the confusion, Harry hurried to his room, where he took Tom Riddle's box, the ripped card that served as a reminder of the old Harry's life and a change of clothes. As the last student (orphan) came up, Harry went in the opposite direction, toward the back door. When asked by Mrs. Swass where he was going, he replied that he would take a walk. In his mind, he added, from which he would never return.

"Nagini?" hissed Harry, staring into the darkness. Of course he could magically turn on a light, but that would expose him (after all, who would not look at a point of light in the dark?) And he wanted to go undetected for as long as possible. Harry doubted that there would be a demand for it, but if there was, he wanted to be away.

"Here, little snake." Came the whisper from the other side of the bars. "Just use your magic to bend the grid" Nagini indicated an iron fence with her tail "and you can go."

Harry did it without much trouble, just used the spell that had previously used to heat the stone, this time heating the iron to melt it, forming a hole that allowed a child of Harry's size to pass through, and they were out.

The boy expected to feel some sort of accomplishment when he got out of the hated orphanage, some kind of freedom, or perhaps relief. What he really felt was more hatred for the place, as he ran to a nearby alley to hide from the rain.

"Now what?" He asked seeing the snake curl around his body.

"Hold on tight" replied Nagini, before they disappeared into the air with a barely audible pop. Harry recognized the sensation from last year, to be dragged through a tube, but this time was better than the previous one. His stomach did complain, not enough to lose the contents of dinner, but Harry did lean against the wall for a moment.

Harry froze. He looked up to see what seemed to be the front of an abandoned mansion with broken windows and a loose door. Unlike what was expected, the garden and the grass were well maintained, and Harry's eyes spotted a small hut in the back. Nagini quickly explained to him that this hut belonged to Frank Bryce, responsible for the well-tended to gardens.

"If my lord decides to keep you" Nagini told Harry as he opened the front door and studied the living room around him. "You'll need to be careful. The last thing you need is a muggle yelling about a spirit being here."

Harry didn't understand what she meant by spirit, but ignored it as his eyes were busy trying to get enough information on the house. Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs, and Harry shivered when he thought he would live here. Better than Wool's, he repeated to himself several times. Better than Wool's.

They went upstairs and the second floor looked as uninhabited as the first, Harry noticed right away. On the ground there were fresh traces of something long and thin, Nagini, Harry assumed, but otherwise there were no signs of life. Harry started to worry when he saw that the third floor of the house which contained a hallway full of rooms, a floor that didn't displayed even a single footprint, and old curtains fluttered with the wind coming in freely, raising dust and making Harry sneeze. The change was noted once they arrived in the hallway of the fourth and top floor of the house. The floor was clean, there were many more marks of Nagini's body, and the wooden floor didn't crack as much when Harry walked. The creepy wind noise didn't reach there because the hall's window was closed, and Harry's opinion changed when a door opened for them magically after Nagini's hiss.

"Master," she welcomed, going to the fireside. A man in his thirties who was kneeling by the fire stood up upon hearing the voice of the snake. "I brought you something."

As he approached, Harry realized that he wasn't a man. He was a man, but not... human. Harry could see through him as if he was made of smoke, and when the man moved, he left a trail of his... substance behind.

"It is a gift?" The man asked, looking at Harry as if he was an animal. Harry felt as the man descended his ghostly eyes at Harry's body, examining every part of it. "He is powerful, but he will not last long."

Harry gulped. He had gone from hell to death? It did not seem fair, but then he remembered that life was not fair. If it were, why would have been condemned to live in misery so many years?

"It's a gift, yes, master, but not to be killed" the tension from the shoulders of Harry disappeared for a while, until he stopped to think about what kind of gift he was. The next sentence of the snake answered his question: "I think we just found our little spy."

Harry's heart skipped a beat and a wave of sadness came over him. That's what he would to Nagini and her master? A simple spy?

"Let me see" whispered the ghost, lifting his translucent fingers until they touched Harry's forehead. The boy hissed in pain on contact, but when he started to retreat, he felt Nagini's body behind him preventing him from moving. It was uncomfortable to feel someone inside his head, as if a mosquito had come to dig in his brain for information.

After a few minutes, the pain stopped when the finger was removed from Harry's forehead. The ghost smirked, then let out a laugh that froze the boy's spine.

"Harry Potter!" The man's smile twisted into a grimace as he changed to English. "Brother of Nicholas Potter, the Boy Who Lived!"

Harry frowned. He had heard that phrase too many times in his entire life. He wanted to be recognized on his own merits, not by a stupid brother Harry barely remembered knowing.

"What do you want, Nagini?" hissed the ghost to the snake, looking furious. "I asked for a body, not for a child!" He pointed at Harry as if he were about to cry like any seven year old would do to see a man like that. Harry did not understand, to be honest. The man spoke as if he were important, and yet could hardly be seen. His voice was like an echo, but Harry's fascination grew. Maybe not fascination, but curiosity.

His eyes ran over Harry again until they noticed the torn uniform. Something flashed in his eyes, and his face suddenly became softer. That was another victim of abuse at the orphanage where he had spent his childhood, and seemed to hold great power that age. Almost as much power as he had at that age, he thought bitterly.

"You need someone who can be seen" Nagini said, approaching the fireplace to enjoy the warmth. It was not as good as Harry's leg, but she didn't want to anger her master by showing affection for the boy. "And in a few years, Harry will be going to Hogwarts. Dumbledore will never be suspicious of an abandoned child." She paused, to ensure that her master was not getting annoyed with the conversation's direction. "We have four years to teach him. He could teach Harry how to live in the shadows, since he's so good at it."

The shadow sat in his chair thoughtfully. Harry was silent, shifting his body weight on his legs. Seconds became minutes and Harry's legs began to ache, but he did not move. He did not want to give the impression of weakness for a man who seemed willing to accept him.

"Fine." The man finally said. "Introductions. I'm Voldemort, or what remains of him. Consider me part of a spirit. Still, do not underestimate me." To prove his point, he entered in Harry's mind again, this time not taking care. Harry fell on the floor on pain. When he stood up, Voldemort continued: "If you are going to be our spy, we need an identity so Harry Potter is not on the dark side. My name is known to the wizarding world, and I cannot train you."

Before Harry could ask who would train him, Voldemort went to the fireplace and made the flames green by levitating a powder that Harry barely remembered. "Regulus?" He called. "You have a new apprentice and heir."

**Reviews make me translate faster, ya know... You can even lie while writing your review (April Fool's Day!) I won't mind :) **

**Thank you for reading, **

**-Lady S.**


	6. The Birth of Revan

**THANK YOU for all your reviews. I got 89 e-mails, that made my day! **

**About when I'm going to post: Twice a month, always on Tuesdays, around this time (you tell me what time is better. I just can't wait much longer because I should already be in bed). I might, however, upload more times if enough of you ask ;) **

**Thank you very much to my amazing beta Marwana. If you haven't already, visit her stories. I'm sure you are going to love them (I do).**

CHAPTER 6

THE BIRTH OF REVAN

Harry jumped off the platform to dodge a paralyzing spell with the same shade as the green of his emerald eyes and the killing curse, rolling on the ground to cushion the impact. He was disappointed to know that most of the theoretical things he had learned over the years in the orphanage were useless in battle.

The idea of Voldemort testing him before Regulus Black's arrival, the supposed dead brother of Harry's godfather, was readily accepted by Harry, who was willing to show that he was not useless, but as the seconds ticked by, the sweat accumulated in Harry's clothes, his vision was blurry and he was about to throw in the towel.

The basement of the house was far from a good training centre, but it was the best they had at the time. The old furniture served as protection, and the wooden columns were great to be destroyed and raise dust. Fighting against a target that had no body was impossible, Harry decided, realizing that the most he could do was distract Voldemort, while he, after "feeding" from Harry, stealing part of his magic, was fully capable of killing the boy.

Harry concentrated on the couch behind Voldemort until it burst into flames, and the distraction worked: While the ghost looked at the couch, Harry disappeared. He waited patiently under a table to try to escape again (since he was unable to win the fight, he would try to flee) when he felt something sharp against his neck. Harry froze, recognizing the object he not seen for a long time.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Whispered a hoarse voice, slipping his wand in Harry's neck to stand up face to face with the boy. No other spell was cast by Voldemort, the ghost just observed the interaction of the two with a smirk on his face.

"Apparently…" replied Harry, looking at the man in front of him. His black hair reached his shoulders and, despite the disorder, it shone. His gray eyes contained so many emotions that the man seemed about to explode. He was small for someone who appeared to be in his thirties, not more than 5'8, and he had almost no muscles. The man was much like Sirius Black, and just by watching him Harry knew who he was. "I'm your apprentice."

Regulus Black looked at Voldemort for confirmation, and the ghost nodded once, approaching both of them. Regulus seemed to be eating himself with curiosity, but knew better than to contradict his master. If he had permission to ask a question, he would not know which one to ask. Perhaps why a James Potter miniature was in front of him, or why he was duelling with Voldemort a moment before.

"Harry needs a home. We need a spy at Hogwarts" explained Voldemort when he saw the curiosity of his loyal follower who had faked his own death to stay with him. He wouldn't bother to answer anyone else's question, but Regulus… Was Regulus. "And you need an heir."

Realization flashed in Regulus' gray eyes, and he wasn't so rude when he took Harry to a room on the fourth floor where there was a wooden bowl carved with runes. Inside the bowl there was a sharp dagger with the dark mark. Regulus drew a circle on the floor, and Harry was positioned in the centre of it.

Regulus walked around the room, gathering ingredients for potions and mixing them until there was a purple liquid mixture in his hand. He carefully placed the liquid in the bowl, which shone for a moment. Regulus then grabbed the dagger and pricked his finger, letting a single drop of blood fall into the liquid. After that it was Harry's turn, and when the blood has mixed the potion, it turned silver.

"Drink" ordered Regulus handing Harry the bowel. "Drink until it's all gone. This will make you a Black, though you won't appear on the family tree."

Harry took the bowl to his lips and breathless, he began to drink. The potion had no taste, but as the potion fell in Harry's stomach, he started to feel… different. At one point, the boy lost his balance and fell to the ground when he saw that where he used to have his familiar hand there was another, bigger than the one he had before.

The circle darkened around him, and suddenly Harry couldn't see beyond the circle. His vision, always faulty, corrected itself, and Harry went through the pain of forced growth. His hair grew, covering his ears, and he felt taller.

A hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality, and he stood up with Regulus' help. Harry tested his balance and stepped toward Voldemort, who seemed pleased with the change.

"Now I am a Black?" He asked, and stopped when he realized his voice. It was deeper, more beautiful, than before, and Harry realized that he could hear his own voice for hours.

"Revan" agreed Voldemort, paying attention to the boy's reaction to his new name. Harry smiled, liking how the name sounded. It was a simple name but still different.

"Revan Altair Black" finished Regulus, lifting Harry's chin to take a good look at him. It was like staring at a copy of himself, but with green eyes. Those eyes had not changed not even a little because of the potion.

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment and suddenly opened his eyes, exclaiming, "We have the same initials!"

The man smiled at Harry's excitement. It would be nice to have a new face at home, after nearly ten years pretending to be dead in the company of an authoritarian ghost.

"Shall we go home?" He invited, reaching for Harry's hand. A smile was his answer, and when the hands locked together, they Disapparated with a pop after a reverence for Voldemort.  
_

If that house, even abandoned, immensely surprised the boy, nothing compared Harry's reaction when he looked at his new home for the first time.

To get there, they walked hand in hand for what seemed like hours through a fog, and when Harry finally plucked up the courage to ask why they kept walking, Regulus replied that that was the impression they had when they were about to enter the house for the first time. The wards needed time to check the visitor's intentions, and in case anyone did not know there was a house there, they would give up on the way.

"An Auror, for example" said Regulus, explaining that the house was one of the hideouts of Black during wars. Unlike the others, this was built after Sirius' escape from the house, so no one except the Dark Lord and Regulus knew of that place. And now Harry, of course.

The fog dispersed and Harry admired the place: It was smaller than he expected a mansion of Black to be, but bigger than he'd expected of a refuge from wars. It had three floors and the gardens were not meticulously maintained, just pretty. No one could ever say that such a family as rich as the Black lived there...

… Until you entered the house.

The doors opened magically after recognizing Regulus' magical signature, revealing a large living room with marble floors and luxurious furniture that seemed to have been taken from the last century. Harry took off his shoes (which after the growth spurt, had become too small) and noticed that the floor was hot. His thoughts turned to Nagini, she would love this place! Wizarding paintings covered walls, most of them asleep or remaining silent. One, however, said when they arrived:

"My dear son!" The voice belonged to a middle-aged woman, and Harry wasn't able to decide if she seemed annoyed because of their presence or because of their previously absence. "Do you have any idea how bad it is to be covered by a cloth in the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black?"

"No, Mom, I haven't" replied Regulus carefully considering his words before saying them. He loved his mother with all his heart, but there were only two paintings of her, and one of them was in a hidden place. The last thing Regulus wanted was to be discovered because his own mother had become angry and said too much to the Black house elf.

Harry decided to ignore the woman (Ms. Black?) for now, and went upstairs as his eyes examined the place. After a year living at Wool's, he could not remember seeing such beauty before. A house elf wiped the floor quickly, apparating from one place to another for a faster service. The pictures, seeing the movement, began to whisper among themselves.

"I did not know that Lord Black had a son"

"Bastard, I say"

"Quiet, Belvina."

"It's not like you know more than me, Lycoris."

"But he looks so much like Lord Black!"

Harry tried to focus on something other than the hundreds of eyes fixed on him. He thought that after living so long unnoticed, he would appreciate a bit of the spotlight on him, but if he could choose right now he'd just disappear as he always did when he didn't want to be seen.

Regulus indicated with his hands where each person should stay in case of an emergency, talking about the house wards. He was clearly fascinated by the place, and seeing how the house had hidden someone for nine years, Harry could not agree more, so even being a little annoyed with the detailed description of the rooms (why should he know that all the wood used came from magic trees?), the boy listened to Regulus.

"This will be your room," he said when opening the door. Harry first went to see the view from the window; he could see the only entrance to the house. The room's position allowed the sunbeams invade the place making it open and clear, though the room was in grayscale or black. Harry tested the bed, remembering the day he had met Ms. Morgan, and realized satisfied that the bed was not only beautiful and huge, it was also very comfortable.

Beside the bed was a shelf full of thick and dusty books. Harry read the titles briefly pausing for the description of the most interesting ones ("Black Magic: The Origin" and "All you need to know about Politics") and already removing some of them to be read that night.

"Revan" called Regulus. Harry was putting Tom Riddle's box on the desk and didn't hear him. He marvelled at the mirror and realized that he had grown at least two inches. His clothes were tight, so Harry opened the wardrobe and looked at the casual robes: They were colorful, unlike the formal robes that had only neutral and serious colors. "Revan!"

His hair was no longer messy, Harry realized. It fell softly in black waves that highlighted his incredibly green eyes. The boy wondered why his eyes had not changed. He had assumed that without female blood in the mix, he would inherit 100% of Regulus characteristics, including gray eyes.

"Harry!"

Harry jumped, turning to look Regulus with his mouth open and ready to reclaim about the scare. His... mentor grabbed his shoulders, kneeling to stand face to face, and said: "Revan, you need to understand that Harry Potter died. You are Revan Black, my son and second in line to the Black heritage."

The boy nodded, realizing his mistake. How big would the chaos be if, when asked about his name, he simply responded that he was Harry Potter? Definitely big). Harry wondered what would be done with their old identity. How did Harry Potter die?

Regulus asked him to redress and meet him downstairs for breakfast. Just then Harry realized he'd been up all night and had not eaten since dinner. His stomach was growling, and he just hadn't noticed his hunger earlier because Harry had learned how to ignore it.

Ten minutes later, Harry followed the delicious smell of breakfast to the table where he sat Regulus. The mentor was wise enough to let Harry eat before starting a conversation, as he knew how some people got grumpy when they were hungry, he being one of them.

Once Harry's plate disappeared, the two created a version of events to tell everyone when Harry, no, Revan went public years later. This generated a little discussion about where Revan spent all those years into hiding and why he hadn't stayed with his uncle, since Harry let his feelings get in the way right. Regulus pointed out that Revan's excuse could not be 'because I hate my uncle' and both opted for a more believable excuse.

"Let's see if you understand."

Harry calmly repeated everything that had been decided at the last minute, focusing only on Regulus eyebrows. The two had discussed the principles of Occlumency, and after a quick inspection, Regulus found out that Harry had no defences at all. It would take some time for Harry to feel someone inside his head, and until then, Regulus decided that avoiding direct contact was the best thing to do.

Harry looked at Regulus apprehensive, waiting for the result. Anything would be better than the silence that surrounded them right now, with Regulus lost in thoughts. He took his finger to his mouth and nibbled the corners of the nail, until he got a jinx thrown his way. Harry jumped where he was, and resisted the temptation to look at the hand that throbbed with pain.

Regulus suppressed a smile when he saw the boy's nervousness. The pronounced dead man was just waiting to see how Harry reacted, observing his habits and looks. He made a mental note to put a permanent jinx in Harry's fingers to stop him from biting his nails whenever he was nervous. A simple act like that could uncover the lie to someone as skilled as Dumbledore.

"Good," he finally said as if it were nothing. Harry's face visibly relaxed, and Regulus remembered his brother as he added: "Now, Revan, repeat it ten times."

1989

"Do it, Revan" said Regulus, placing his hand on Harry's back. As the years passed, he became increasingly attached to the child, to the point of not knowing what to do when Harry went to Hogwarts. The boy had been his only company for three years, and each act or gesture was a joy for both. Both had lost their family, and having someone to share the secrets was a good change.

Harry looked at the mouse in front of him. The animal squeaked, trying to escape the ball of force in which it was stuck. The mouse's fate was already decided, thought Harry, and there was nothing he could do. It was a sacrifice, he decided, slowly raising Regulus' wand to get a good aim.

"Avada Kedavra"

The yelping abruptly stopped, as well as the mouse's movements. Harry wasn't expecting the surge of power that ran through his veins, but he gladly welcomed it. Perhaps that was why, he thought closing his eyes, so many people went crazy practicing dark spells. Suddenly the adrenaline stopped and he stared at the dead mouse.

Regulus approached the dead mouse and examined the body. There was nothing to denounce its' death, as seemed to happen when the spell was not executed correctly. He looked at his apprentice, satisfied with the result. At the age of ten, and already able to perform a deadly curse...

He smiled, imagining Harry's power in a few years, when he reached his full potential.  
_

Harry closed his eyes, breathing quietly and focusing on a mental image. Voldemort told him in one of his weekly visits that it was important to focus on something, to build mental walls to protect it from the attack of 'despicable old people like Dumbledore' and remain calm in difficult times. Harry had an explosive temper when anger came to the surface, so the lesson served two purposes.

"Focus!" shouted Regulus, making the boy jump in place. Harry was both mentally and physically agile, and responded well to spells, potions and political classes. Dominating charms, transfiguration came to him easily, and after an initial push, where Harry learned that the desire to transform something had more effect than speaking the spell louder, his works received at least E's. "Revan, you're not focused!"

The little spy gritted his teeth, but created barriers in his mind that led to a library full of books whose titles were names of memories. The synopsis was the basic description, and when that the password was said ("Harry" in Parseltongue), the person would be "sucked" into the memory where they would watch it before they were send back to the library. To get there, the attacker needed to go through a Nagini based snake with green scales. Its function was to choke the intruder until the he/she got him out of Harry's mind, or just bite to scare. He did not care about the methods, as long as the intruder was out of his head.

Suddenly, Harry staggered at the same time as all snakes hissed in unison. Their heads faced the smoky person who slowly approached with his wand pointed at the snakes. One of them took the initiative, jumping at Regulus to pull it out of its master's mind, but once it collided with the other body, it vanished into the air.

Regulus looked at where Harry was, in the door opening of the library, moving his hands to draw new mental protections. Lightning bolts fell in a range of seconds on a river that now surrounded the library. Two dragons, one golden and one white, flapped their wings and dropped heavy columns of fire on Regulus, who protected himself by gathering water from the river and creating a barrier. Harry had to admit that the shield was beautiful but his frustration to see that the fire was useless made him create a Lamia to welcome visitors.

That trap worked. The snake woman slid sensuously up Regulus, her breasts covered by her long black hair which was falling in soft waves past her waist. She had a smirk on her face that increased as she approached the man, her new victim. Her violet eyes shone with excitement to serve someone, someone who could talk to her, no less. Regulus opened and closed his mouth several times like a fish out of water without greater reaction because of the sheer beauty of the woman. The first woman he came in contact in nine years. The creature's thin pale arms wrapped around Regulus, the red lips and approached the man's ear to whisper something. At that point, Regulus was already far from reality.

Harry did not wait a moment to confirm the trick. "Oppugnare!" He whispered, and the Dragons led the attack. The golden dragon was in front, descending quickly and ready to pounce, but when his teeth touched Regulus, it let a yelp of agony escape his mouth and fell dead at the feet of Black.

The mentor shook his head to get rid of the image that Lamia had described, and shouted: "Revan! End of lesson!"

Immediately the scene fell apart in front of Harry, and he found himself in the chair where he had sat before class. He put a hand on his chest in a futile attempt to calm his heart. Sweat occupied every inch of his skin, and Harry was panting. The house elf, feeling the need of its master, fetched a glass of cold water from the kitchens. Harry gulped the water quickly.

"Revan, you are progressing" said Regulus, taking a cup of water intended for him. To end Harry's satisfaction, he completed: "Soon you will be able to prevent a baby from staring at your eyes."

Laughter filled the room. Harry was the first to stop, breathing deeply to regain air. All he wanted now was to fall on his huge bed and sleep for the rest of the day, but he looked at Regulus, making sure to stare the mentor's eyes ordered hoarsely, "Again."  
_

The Dark Lord was bored. The days passed, the child grew, but his situation remained the same. Ten years ago, ten fucking years, since he had been confined to that awful way of life. No, it could not be considered a life. How could it, when he had been forbidden to leave the house for his own safety and depended on the lives of creatures that Nagini brought him to live? Being less than an squib, a muggle, was shameful. Without the boy, he could not even open the doors with his thought without disappearing out of the world. Any attempt to do powerful magic, any magic at all, left him exhausted.

He wondered what he had done wrong. All his actions, even the Muggle raids, were done for the good of the wizarding world; they engaged increasingly with muggles, decreasing the chance of the child having magic blood, now so rare in such a big world full of disgusting muggles that served to destroy the world. And everything was going well, until Nicholas Potter appeared. The ghosts lips of the Dark Lord contorted into a grimace at the thought of the boy. He had no idea of the power of Nicholas Potter and neither did the boy Revan and Regulus. The much hated Nicholas Potter, a fifteen months old boy who could barely walk had defeated him.

The Dark Lord wanted to scream in anger, but he knew that any sound might rise the gardener's curiosity. Except when the boy visited him, Voldemort remained in darkness and silence. Nagini spent most of the day hunting for her master, and when she finally came back with a living prey, she slept immediately.

The table burst into flames just from the Dark Lord's anger. For a moment his form wavered, stabilizing afterwards. He calmed down enough to extinguish the fire, and sat on the couch out of sheer habit. In his state, he could stand for hours, or even days, if he wanted to.

Soon, he vowed to himself touching his own face and imagining that there was skin there. Soon the boy would turn eleven, and go to Hogwarts. The Dark Lord would receive news of the wizarding world, and life would not be so strange. With a spy at Hogwarts, another step was taken for the resurrection of the Dark Lord.

**I don't like this chapter, but I didn't want to make it too small. Just showing how bad Harry/Revan is in Occlumency :) **

**Reviews make my day, and better, make me translate faster. I love suggestions too, and tips about how to improve my writing. **

**I better go to bed now. Have a good night everyone, see ya in 15 days! **

**-Lady S**


	7. Getting Ready

**HARRY POTTER IS NOT MINE, BUT THIS FANFICTION IS. **

**_This fanfiction was betaed by Marwana._**

**Thanks for all your reviews. I'm sorry it took me so long, the next chapter will be uploaded in two weeks (I hope). Enjoy!**

CHAPTER 7

GETTING READY

Revan's huge bed shook with the impact, making him pull his illegal wand from under the pillow, alarmed. A moment later, however, he relaxed and punched the attacker. It was Regulus, his mentor, who seemed excited about the special date. Over the years Regulus had revealed a childish soul, and mentor and pupil had grown close enough to consider each other family, which worked well for them whenever they went out in public.

"Happy birthday, Revan!" shouted Regulus, shaking the boy to ensure he was properly awake. Revan punched his mentor again, got out of the hug he was in and walked to the closet to select the clothes he would wear that day. He was removing black robes when a negative sound came out of Regulus' lips.

"I was hoping we could visit the Dark Lord today" he explained, giving Revan one of the few pairs of muggle clothes he had. Every time they visited their master, they were forced to dress like muggles, just in case. If Frank Bryce saw them, he would be killed instantly, but the old man prevented onlookers from approaching the house, which served the purposes. Of course, the day he dared to enter the mansion, he would die, but that hadn't happened yet.

Revan's brow furrowed. It was morning, the sun was shining and it meant more chances of being caught, but knowing not to defy his master, the Black heir did not utter a sound, only changed. When he finished, the two went down to have breakfast.

Libby, named by Revan since Regulus never bothered to give the elf a name, had already prepared a table with various types foods and was now cleaning the windows, snapping her fingers repeatedly. Revan helped himself, wondering if his Hogwarts letter would arrive. Since the place where they lived didn't technically exist, the letter wasn't supposed to arrive. He was not too concerned because he knew that the school would find a way with the magical owls.

When he finished, Revan grabbed Regulus' arm. He had a basic understanding of Apparition, and used to Apparate from one place to another inside the house, but he did not trust himself for long distances, especially when the desired location was cities away. If he lost an arm or a leg, the Dark Lord would be furious. And Revan would rather not risk it, so both Apparated to the door of the abandoned house (or so Muggles thought) and entered without fanfare.

Revan shot upstairs to meet with Nagini. She was the closest to a female figure he had, and their relationship was changing every day. Generally they were like siblings, but Nagini wasn't afraid to correct Revan when he did something wrong, just like a mother would. The year before Revan, in an act of courage, had expressed his desire **of **wanting to bring Nagini to Hogwarts with him to Voldemor, drawing a smile from the Dark Lord. He calmly explained that bringing a snake would imply that he was a Parselmouth and that would put him in **the crossfire **with the teachers.

"Ah, Revan!" said Voldemort, floating up to Revan and extending his hand to the boy. Revan did his best to shake his master's hand, knowing that it was no more than smoke, but as long as it made the Dark Lord happy… "Happy birthday."

"Thank you, master." Revan replied softly, nodding in appreciation. The Black heir felt Nagini twist around him, and after so many years, he wasn't bothered by the snake's cold and clammy body. It was the closest comfort that Nagini could give.

Suddenly, something flew toward Revan. He dodged at the last second, and the object fell on the floor beside him. Voldemort shrugged, he was still learning to control what he could do; based on muggle legends from Revan's orphanage, Voldemort had learned that ghosts could cause small movements and sounds. Revan hurried to catch whatever it was. He recognized the seal at the moment he saw it: Hogwarts.

"It was a surprise when I got the letter," said Voldemort. "I believe that, because they could not find your house, they left the letter at the second place you spent most of your time in. Here." Revan swallowed. He would not be punished for it, would he? It was not his fault, he could not imagine that something like this would happen. Still, the letter could report his whereabouts.

Thanks to Merlin when he took the letter he saw that this was not the case.

Mr. R. Black,  
Second largest room  
Nowhere.

'HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY.  
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts

School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all

necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress'  
**(Beta note: this is from the American version of Philosopher's Stone; one that can be found online… As far as I know this one is similar to the British one.)**

Revan turned and hugged Regulus. The plan would finally begin.

Mentor and pupil apparated directly to Diagon Alley after Regulus put a glamor on himself and Revan. Now they both sported light brown hair and brown eyes, walking among people who ran to buy the latest Christmas presents (N/A: New birthday, December 21st.) Revan did not like the holiday; it was a muggle one, and in his opinion it should not be celebrated in the wizarding world. Another thing that needed to change, he thought darkly after having his foot crushed by a witch who had probably forgotten the gifts.

The first stop of the two was the wizard bank, Gringotts.

Revan looked at the charade that was displayed at the entrance, and as always, tried to imagine what it meant. How would the protections work if someone broke into the bank? He knew Gringotts functioned independently of the Ministry, so he doubted that the wards were restricted to what was allowed by the government. How far would the goblins go to protect someone's account? Revan could practically hear the gears working in his own brain. The goblins would be good allies to have when the war began.

When they stopped in front of the goblin who always helped them, Butternut looked up from accounts that needed to be paid and gave them a scary smile. Neither Revan nor Regulus took a step back, but both felt a chill going down their back.

"How can I help you today, Lord Black?" asked Butternut, leading them to a private office. Revan took the initiative, and soon the two had taken sufficient amount of money for the school year of the Black heir, whose mind was busy with thinking about the jet of fire he had seen on the way to the vault full of gold.

He vaguely heard Regulus asking him where he wanted to go first. Quickly, Revan read the materials list and saw that the nearest store was Flourish and Blotts, where they would buy all the school books. To save time, while Revan bought the books from the list Regulus went to the Slug & Jigger's Apothecary to pick up ingredients for potions. They agreed to meet at the Emporium Owls when they finished, and both went to do their tasks.

Revan took longer than expected. Lots of shelves were empty because of Christmas, and he struggled to get a copy of each book that the list contained. At least he had succeeded, he thought as he entered the giant queue to pay. About half an hour later, he walked out of the store filled with relief, breathing the fresh air of Diagon Alley.

"Revan!" called Regulus, approaching with a raven on his right shoulder. Seeing the curious gaze of the boy, he gave Revan another hug. "You did not ask anything for your birthday, and we don't have a mail bird. Happy birthday."

While they walked until Madame Malkin, Robes for All Occasions, Regulus explained why he had chosen a raven instead of an owl: Ravens were more resistant to spells, and could not be tracked as easily as an owl. After selecting its owner, the loyalty of a raven would never change. On the other hand, they were seen as evil and could not carry heavy loads, which was easily solved with spells.

Despite preferring a snake, Revan agreed that it was a good gift. He and Regulus had not decided how to communicate yet, and it had been implied that they would speak through owls, but for reasons already explained, it was dangerous. Revan was not so willing to talk through codes to his mentor, since all he would do in school would be, somehow, wrong.

Revan entered the store first, followed by Regulus. "Just a minute, dear," stated Malkin, and turned away before she could see the grimace that came to the boy's face. He was not anyone's darling. If he needed be, it would be Regulus' and not a woman he had never seen before. Revan believed muggles to be disgusting and he disliked their expressions as well, first because they were, well, Muggle, and second because "dear" reminded him of the last place he was considered dear, the Potter manor.

Still muttering under his breath, he sat down next to a standing boy, having his clothes adjusted. He lifted his chin proudly as any pure blood would be, already showing his status, which was completed by wizarding black robes that made his loyalty known. He made no attempt to talk to Revan, and he decided he would be cold with him as well.

He looked at Revan with interest: he had never seen that boy before, and yet he was examining him as if he had a position of power in their society. Once he finished the thought, he shook his head, attracting Revan's eyes. How could anyone have a position of power superior to him, being eleven? He met the boy's brown eyes; they seemed odd for some reason. Before he had time to examine it with more interest, Madame Malkin finished his clothes.

"Will you wait for your clothes, dear?" asked the witch. He nodded, wanting the woman to leave his field of his vision. As if by magic, she left, and the mysterious boy was the next victim of the tape measure.

That silence was getting strange, thought Revan. Regulus had decided to buy Revan's cauldron, as well as a trunk. After that there would only be the wand left and then they could return to Voldemort to give the report and continue to train Revan until Hogwarts. He decided to break the silence in a very different way, asking:

"Today is your birthday too?"

The blonde blinked, surprised, but replied: "No. My family decided to buy my stuff before," he made a sound of contempt. "Only fools expect the list of materials arrive. It's the same useless list with the same useless books every year."

Revan frowned, not knowing that. Great, now he was a fool in front of someone who looked suspiciously like the photos of young Lucius that Regulus had showed him. A man not to bother, his mentor said. Wonderful. "Good to know" he commented, not wanting to sound rude. Since he could not extend his hand to greet him, he only said: "My name is Revan."

"Draco Malfoy."

Revan smiled, pleased to know that his assumption was correct about the boy. A Malfoy. One of the traitors who had abandoned Voldemort in his moment of greatest weakness. Revan's smile was as cold as his eyes. At Hogwarts he should settle accounts with the Malfoy boy. Nobody abandoned the Dark Lord and got away with it.

The blond stood up, grabbing the bags he had just received from Madame Malkin. He waved to Revan when he left without saying anything.

It did not take long for Regulus to return, carrying a mini trunk in his pocket as well as a mini cauldron. He muttered something under his breath, the raven still on his shoulders. People passing by stopped to look at it; it was not every day you saw a tamed raven. When he saw Revan, he smiled and gestured for the boy to join him.

The robes were ready, and the two walked to Ollivander's, glad that this was the last stop before they could apparate back to Black manor.

Ollivander's shop was narrow and worn. Gold letters above the door said: Ollivander's: Wand Makers since 382 BC. A single wand lay on a purple cushion in the dusty window.

A bell rang somewhere in the store when Revan entered. Regulus had decided to stay outside for some reason. The place where he stood was tiny, and Revan sat on a chair to wait. Across the counter, hundreds of small boxes were stacked occupying the whole space, barely allowing someone to walk there. The place pulsed with magic and power, and Revan closed his eyes in contentment. He had never felt so much magic in one place.

"I thought you were not coming," said someone behind Revan slowly. He turned and lifted the intruder with his right hand; Ollivander choked, but exhibited a satisfied smile on his face when he saw the boy's reaction. There were few who didn't jump when he surprised them.

"You know me?" asked Revan before he could stop himself. The man's pale eyes fixed on him, and Revan felt that, like the goblins, Ollivander was not fooled by his glamour. Suddenly he understood why Regulus had stopped outside. He released the man's grasp, and Ollivander ran behind the counter where he has started to separate some wands, making little comments about quick reflexes and lighter wands. "How?"

Ollivander continued to withdraw box after box behind and put them on the counter, without giving any attention to Revan's question. When the boy had already resigned to the lack of response, green eyes met blue, and Ollivander replied: "Magic."

Revan raised an eyebrow.

The old man sighed in defeat: "I get a list of Hogwarts students and their birthdays. Happy birthday, Mr. Black."

Before Revan could thank him, all his attention was on tapes that measured every part of his body. While Ollivander gave his speech about the wands he made (and Revan had to admit that, while not as impressive as his old wand purchased in Knockturn Alley a year ago, it was an interesting story) more and more boxes were placed between Ollivander and Revan to the point they no longer could see each other.

The tapes fell to the ground with Ollivander's command and the old man handed Revan a wand. "Try this. Beech, dragon heartstring and 23 centimeters. Good and flexible."

Just by holding the wand, Revan dismissed it. Without waiting for the command, he took the second one and before Ollivander was able to say "vine fiber and dragon heartstring" the wand was placed back in the box. The next to be proved was holly and phoenix feather. Revan waved the wand; something seemed right, and yet it was not.

The wand was blasted out of his hand by Ollivander, and to Revan's surprise, it was broken in two. He looked at the old wizard, his face expressing the question he wanted to ask. Ollivander calmly explained that in this case, the core of the wand was correct, unlike the wood. Six attempts later, the black hawthorn wood was chosen.

"Interesting" muttered Ollivander as he placed the intact phoenix feather inside the black hawthorn twig. Revan watched fascinated the process: none of the books he had read talked about the creation of a wand. "I knew we had a warrior here, Mr. Black, but being chosen by black hawthorn isn't for just anyone."

Revan suppressed a smug smile. In fact, he was a warrior, and if all went according to Voldemort's plan, Revan would become one of the best warriors of the dark side. Instead of smiling, he politely thanked and paid ten Galleons for his wand, a higher price than normal because of the loss of the holly wood used to make the original wand.

When they apparated back to the mansion, no words were exchanged. Each one walked to their room, exhausted and they just went down for dinner before going back upstairs and falling into a deep sleep.

It was late March when the Blacks were awoken in the middle of the night by Eyphah, as the raven had been named. Eyphah's ticking was insistent on Revan's window, and when he stood up, the raven flew into his bedroom. After Revan was properly awake, he untied the small letter that was tied around Eyphah's leg. The message was simple, written in a thin and elegant handwriting that Revan did not recognize.

Come here.

Only one person could have sent that letter with Eyphah, and without thinking twice, mentor and apprentice rushed to change clothes and go to the old Riddle House.

Voldemort chuckled when he saw two wands pointed at him as he opened the door, amused at the reaction of the two when they saw that the laughter came out of a living person. He said as he gestured to the two enter: "Come in, we must talk where we cannot be seen."

Revan was the first to lower the wand when he saw Nagini wrapped around the man's neck. No. That was impossible. Still, Revan's hands touched the man's face. He was real. His master had a body. The man's eyes were glazed, as if they did not see anything. In fact that was what was happening . Two souls couldn't fully share a body, the real Quirrell was being eaten by rats somewhere.

"Master?" whispered Revan incredulously.

The man smiled at him immediately, and hissed: _"Hello, Revan."_

That left no doubt. Revan's first impulse was to hug the man as he couldn't contain his happiness, but the sense of preserving spoke louder. He just shook Voldemort's right hand, satisfied to feel his master's flesh against his hand, and walked inside.

Voldemort did not use too many details to describe what had happened: He had gone to Albania and found Quirrell, who was spending his holidays there. The teacher's mind wasn't protected and it did not take long to convince him of donating his own body, from which left out the part where he would die when the second spirit entered the body. That was why Voldemort was not using Revan: The boy was more useful to him alive.

"I am the teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts" announced Voldemort proudly, getting a shot of muggle Whiskey that was in the house. After so many years, he finally got the job. He looked at Revan and smiled for the third time that night. "You will not be alone."

**This is where I change things: Voldemort is more than just a ghost, and surprise, he's the teacher. Reviews make my day happier :D **

**-Lady S.**


	8. Allies

**Sorry guys, my exams are happening right now and I don't have much time to write and translate. My beta is travelling, but after she comes back I'll try to give you at least one chapter a week. Thank you for all your reviews.**

**Enjoy.**

CHAPTER 8

ALLIES

Eyphah woke Revan up when she saw that the sun was up on September 1st. Revan turned around in the bed, hiding his face under his pillow to hide from the sudden brightness which had invaded his room. He resisted the urge to throw something **on** the raven; since March, he was woken up every day at about six in the morning. Every damn day. To make things worse, he heard heavy footsteps.

He didn't make a sound when a jet of water hit his head, only stared at Regulus, who smiled innocently despite having his wand in hand. "It's time to wake up!" he shouted as his smile grew larger.

"Why are you so excited?" Revan asked rubbing his eyes and stretching. "I'm the one who's going to Hogwarts."

"Exactly!" replied Regulus, checking his apprentice's black and silver trunk. Everything was perfectly organized in the five compartments of the trunk: Books, clothes, potions, personal items and money. Umph ... He did not understand how someone who had lived with him for four years could still have that level of organization. "I will be rid of you for three months!"

His tone was serious, but Revan knew that Regulus was joking.

"When I'm home again you'll realize how much you've missed me."

"I would expect nothing less from you."

Their eyes met and they had a battle of stares before Regulus burst into a laugh. He gestured towards the wardrobe and levitated Revan's trunk down to make sure they wouldn't be late. The boy quickly dressed before placing Tom Riddle's small box, now dusty because of lack of use, on top of everything.

Tom Riddle's advice had been used less and less frequent over the years, to the point in which Revan almost forgot the existence of the notes. They used to work as a manual of survival at Wool's Orphanage, but when you lived in a magical house that didn't technically exist, a child's advice from the beginning of the century were not as necessary as before.

Revan was not hungry when they came down, but he ate as much as he could. Why was he so nervous? He should look like a normal kid going to Hogwarts. He repeated the whole story of how he was a Black in his head until he could see what he needed to say in front of him. Revan swallowed another mouthful and performed the spell Tempus. It was seven in the morning.

"No. We will eat, talk and sleep some more, Revan." his name went smoothly from Regulus' mouth, who was now used to avoiding the name Harry. "What will you do for four hours alone on a train?"

Revan shrugged, not bothered by it. He could read a book or write in his new diary that contained his progress on spells and politics. He also needed to think about how he would act in Hogwarts. He should not stand out, Voldemort said, but getting grades below E would be shameful.

"Eight o'clock."

"Ten."

"Nine and we are done." They shook hands.

Revan went to the floo, walking into the flames without fear. He fell awkwardly in his lord's house; a hand helped him to stand. While he went to the couch, the Black heir tried to decide if the person who had helped him was his lord or Quirrell. Brown eyes stared at him; for a few moments, they were crimson red, but returned to normal before Revan could process it.

Voldemort sat near the fire, playing with his wand between his fingers thoughtfully. He had some advice to give to the boy. He stood up and sat next to Revan, who immediately stiffened, making Voldemort smile. The boy always seemed to make him happy, probably because he didn't cry for anything like the children the Dark Lord had grown up with. He knew when to speak. He was silent when Voldemort needed him to be silent. Watch out, old friend, he said to himself. You might be starting to enjoy his presence.

The ticking clock woke him from his reverie. Voldemort shook his head to clear his thoughts and lifted Revan's chin until he was inside his mind, very slowly as the old fool Dumbledore would do. It took a few seconds to find a memory. Revan was weeping over the body of a young brunette who was staring at the ceiling with eyes that could not see anymore.

Voldemort blinked. Revan Black didn't have a mother. Soon he figured it out. A fake memory! Voldemort stroked the boy's head with pride. Revan was becoming more and more real with the boy's efforts. "Nice trick" he said, playing with his wand again. "But you still cannot fight invaders. Keep practicing."

He seemed very angry since the end of July, when his attempts to steal the Philosopher's Stone from Gringotts bank had failed. Voldemort had tortured every living creature within ten feet from him - which included Revan, his words about how breaking into the safest place in the world was already a huge merit not working on his lord.

Revan sighed, resigned. No matter how hard he tried, or how many books he read about it, he lacked the natural talent for Occlumency. The years passed and all that Revan could do was create false memories and a smoke shield. Regulus used to say that his four years of progress could be done in months if his defences weren't so weak.

"I thought I should visit you one more time before the school year ..." Revan began, not knowing exactly which words to use to say that he was afraid to go to Hogwarts after living so long in anonymity. He kept his face neutral. He shouldn't show he was scared. Emotions, in his lord's opinion, were for the weak.

"Of course. The old fool hid the stone somewhere, about two weeks ago. He asked me for defences. I gave him a troll." He paused. "And we also have Severus."

Revan rolled his eyes. Severus' side in the war was unknown. Voldemort had spared Lily's life, which should have made him crawl back to the Dark Lord, but in real life nothing happened as planned. He now taught Potions at Hogwarts, and spent his free time trying to win back his lost love, Lily, who refused to talk to him since she had heard about the prophecy. She conveniently ignored the fact that Pettigrew was the real traitor, not Snape. Pettigrew, however, was serving for his treason, sentenced to life in Azkaban for supporting the darkness.

"I'll be careful" he promised.

"Do not try to steal the stone at the beginning of the school year, or you will have no place to hide it. Try before Christmas, and if you cannot" here, Voldemort cast a menacing look for the boy. "Try May or June."

Revan nodded. That made sense, and it was his master speaking, even if the plan was the worst in the world he would still agree.

Voldemort continued: "Look no teacher in the eyes. Do not eat or drink anything that might be poisoned. Be polite and avoid being the centre of attention. You know your story."

He disapparated and found himself in Hogsmeade. He looked around the place, seeing the happy people and the old castle standing as if it would be there forever. That was something to change. He took a carriage to Hogwarts individual without major problems. The thestrals led quickly to the castle, where he found a man who looked like a replica of Harry Potter: The father of the boy who lived. Voldemort suppressed a grin when he saw him. Of course the man would inspect the arrival of the students.

James was talking excitedly with Minerva about Animagi, his arm around Lily's waist. Flitwick soon joined the conversation, adding irrelevant comments about spells that helped the transformation. It did not take long to Voldemort to find out the Light wanted to make the boy who lived an animagus. Lily did not seem too thrilled with the idea, by the way she rolled her eyes. Voldemort wanted to roll his eyes with her. He did not know how animagus training could help the boy to defeat him.

"Ah, Quirinus!" called Dumbledore, opening his arms to him and waving excitedly. Voldemort resisted the urge to kill him on the spot. He took a deep breath, and began acting.

Revan tried hard not to blush when Regulus hugged him in the middle of all the wizards who were going to Hogwarts. First, he stiffened. He was used to a punch on the shoulder, but not to hugs. Slowly he relaxed, realized that nothing bad could happen from that hug. He felt his throat tighten; no matter how much training he had done, he admitted to himself that he did not know what he would do without his guardian. At least, he thought, he would have Voldemort.

"It's not like I'm never going to see you again" he whispered, stepping back and levitating his trunk. "Goodbye, Reg."

He almost used the word Father. Perhaps, over the years, Regulus had become more than a guardian to Revan. What he did for him was way more than James used to do for Harry.

Revan entered the train, his truck behind him. He began to look into all the wagons, looking for an empty one, until he gave up and walked until the end of the train. No sound came out of any of the wagons, perhaps because there were still two hours before they left, and Revan chose the last one to sit in. He thought about putting a spell on the door to make sure he wasn't disturbed, but he dismissed the idea. He should make friends.

Modifying the book cover of the Dark Arts book that he had in hand, Revan began to read the "Potions" introduction. Curious, he actually got the potions book. As he passed the pages and made notes on the side, Revan realized he already knew most of the potions, at least the theoretical part. He smiled, knowing he would have an advantage over students who would study with him at Hogwarts.

Before he knew it, there was a whistle and the train began to move. It did not take long for him to hear footsteps outside the wagon Revan was. Most went straight after seeing that the wagon already had someone in, but the Black heir's luck didn't last long.

A boy his age entered, wearing elegant robes and proudly lifting his chin. His eyes swept the wagon until they met Revan's. He examined him, his clothes and book in hand, and decided the boy wasn't a mudblood. Satisfied, he sat, giving a small smile to Revan.

"Hello" greeted the Black heir, trying to sound kind. He reached out for the boy's hand. "I am Revan Black."

The boy shook his outstretched hand with a frown. "Theodore Nott" wa) presented before he also opened a book in a clear gesture of a request for silence.

Nott was a tall boy with black hair and light brown eyes. He seemed to like being alone, not having spoken another word. Revan recognized the surname of the child; Nott was one of the only death eaters who remained loyal to the dark lord, the only ones that weren't in Azkaban because of their generous donations to the Ministry. Revan looked at what he was reading: Everything you need to know about politics. He smiled, remembering the dusty book he had read the first night he slept in his new home.

"I thought your father taught you all about politics," he said, closing his own book and looking at the beautiful scenery outside the train. Actually he was examining Nott through the reflection.

Nott's brown eyes focused on Revan and he closed his book loudly. "He did" Nott snapped, putting the book back in his trunk and taking a sample of The Daily Prophet. "But it seems your father didn't teach you how to be polite."

Revan felt the magic emanating from his body. The tension between the two boys was almost palpable, but Revan stepped back when he realized the boy had no idea of Harry Potter's life. He said: "My father died when I was a few months old."

Nott's face softened immediately. He told Revan that his mother had died in front of him by extremists of light that were sure she was a death eater. His father was always involved in politics so yes, he knew about politics, but he studied more to make his father proud. He didn't make clear that his mother was actually a death eater, and Revan knew how extremists would kill anyone who wore black clothes. He politely apologized for the question.

"Slytherin, right?" Revan asked raising an eyebrow. It was clear: Book about politics, death eater parents and black robes.

Nott nodded. "My dad would kill me if I was selected for another house."

From what Revan had heard about Nott, he did not doubt the possibility.

The door of the car was opened once again and the head of a tall black boy was seen by Revan and Nott. Revan smiled friendly, despite being satisfied with the company he had, and motioned for the boy to enter. He stepped forward, putting his trunk along with the other two, and sat beside the Nott without a word.

If Nott was the example of self-confidence and pride, the new boy was the one who sat in the back of the room and watched quietly, pleased to be part of the crowd, which contradicted the silk robes he wore. Even with such clothes, the long, oblique boy's eyes were almost closed, staring at the floor.

"We were talking about Hogwarts houses" Revan said dismissively. The silence in the situation was bad. The train was the best place to find out who would be his allies. "By the way, I am Revan Black, and that is Theodore Nott."

"Blaise Zabini" the boy smiled, leaning over to shake hands. "What about the houses?"

Nott answered: "Our hopes and families."

"Let's put it this way" he replied, his voice less tense than before. "If I do not wear a green uniform tomorrow, my mother will desert me."

The three shared a laugh. Zabini seemed to get more comfortable with the boys as time passed, and when the candy cart left them with a dozen chocolate frogs, Blaise chatted excitedly with them, talking about the strange habits of each husband that his mother had. Nott added his comments about how they hid the Dark objects his father had. He did not seem scared by the fact that, if those words got out of the car, his father could go to Azkaban, perhaps because the Zabini's wanted nothing to do with war and Revan represented a house that openly supported the darkness, though not having death eaters. At least that's what they thought...

Zabini frowned again, and Revan prepared to answer a difficult question. Slytherins were not impressed easily. "Speaking of families, what kind of Black are you?"

Revan blinked, not so surprised by the question. He knew someone would ask, after some time. Sirius Black had no heirs (legitimate, at least) and Regulus Black was, well, dead.

Nott came to Revan's rescue before the situation got uncomfortable: "Revan's father is dead."

"This opens up the range of possibilities," noted Zabini, and jumped to another subject, realizing that he wouldn't get an answer from the green eyed boy so easily. They were still talking about Fudge in the place of Millicent Bagnold as Minister of Magic, criticizing Fudge for his obvious support to the light, increasing the sentences of Azkaban and making more and more victims of the Dementor's kiss when a brunette entered without knocking.

Her hair, the boys decided later, appeared to have been electrocuted. She was wearing the uniform, though they still had a few hours in the train. When she opened her mouth to speak, the girl revealed rather large teeth. "Have you seen a frog? Neville has lost his" she waited for an answer from the boys.

"No"

"Nope"

"No frog here."

She crossed her arms and swept frustrated the wagon with her eyes, this time stopping on one of the books Revan had in hand, The Dark World of Runes. Her eyes widened, and she began to speak so fast that the Black heir questioned the girl's ability to breath. "Should I have read about runes? Hogwarts: A History says that we only start studying runes in our third year, and since we are in the first, I thought I didn't have to read it, but I've read all the books in our year, I think that will be enough. My name is Hermione Granger. Why are you looking at me like that? Oh my god, I won't be accepted at Hogwarts. Could you lend me your book? I'll return it before we arrive, I promise. Why are you reading about runes?"

"Because knowledge is power" Revan replied coolly, laying eyes on the shy boy who stood behind the bossy girl. Neville, he supposed, and tried to remember why that name was familiar to him. Maybe not for Revan, but for Harry...

"The frog isn't here" Nott repeated. "If you'll excuse us..."

Granger opened her mouth to argue, but decided against it, shrugged and marched out. With one last look, Revan locked the door without anyone noticing. It was better that way.

"Phew" sighed Nott. "I thought she'd never leave." Revan and Zabini nodded, before resuming their conversation about Fudge, cursing him with all the names they knew.

Hours later, Revan felt the train stop. Already dressed in the Hogwarts' robes, the three stepped out of the train in the middle of the thousand students that came with them. Nervousness, anticipation, satisfaction, Revan felt everything and showed nothing as he mingled in the crowd, not wanting to be noticed by a certain redhead until after the selection.

He swallowed; everything he had arranged with both Voldemort and Regulus would be put into use, now or later, at Hogwarts.

**I feel like a bad person when I ask you for reviews when I take so long to upload this fanfiction, but if you could share your thoughts, I'd enjoy it. **


	9. Snake's Den

**Hey... Is there anyone still waiting for this story? I'm so sorry. The truth is, translating is boring. The first year is ready, but writing is much easier than translating. I hope I can be done with this story until the end of summer vacations. **

**The chapter:**

CHAPTER 9

SNAKE'S DEN

Despite Revan's efforts, he saw his brother before they arrived at Hogwarts. Nicholas Potter was surrounded by both journalists and fans, which were asking for his autograph euphoric. The Black heir watched the scene with a bored look on his face; neither him, Voldemort or Regulus knew what had happened that fateful Halloween night, but Revan had read some of the many books devoted to the Boy Who Lived, and even with the few memories he had of the night that turned his world upside down, he knew that Nicholas Potter hadn't done all he claimed he had done.

"And then" Nicholas was saying while walking behind a half giant who waved his hands calling for first years. Revan, Nott and Zabini followed the crowd, listening to the story. "He appeared. I was alone and he wanted to kill me, but when he tried…" Dramatic pause. "My eyes glowed, my magic created a shield around me and the curse was reflected, destroying the most dangerous wizard ever."

The crowd said "oh" together. Revan rolled his eyes, letting his thoughts wander off. He knew what happened that night as well as Nicholas, so he wouldn't waste his time with ridiculous stories taken from fantasy books. No, thank you, but Revan preferred his thoughts. Dumbledore had hired a half-giant. Was he as stupid as he looked? The Dark Lord told Revan some of his experiences with giants; the Black heir learned that giants weren't trustworthy, and actually, rather stupid. Who would trust a giant that could spill his guts to a complete stranger?

"Anyone else?" the giant shouted, eyeing the crowd. When no one spoke or ran into the crowd, he raised his heavy right hand and shouted again: "Come on!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed the giant down a steep path. It was so dark Revan couldn't see more than a few feet away. He did, however, realize that he was next to a forest by using the moonlight. The Forbidden Forest, if he remembered the information the books gave well.

They turned to the right and again, everyone's jaws dropped. That time, even Revan was amazed by what he saw. Hogwarts was fantastic. No image, description or memory could be as perfect as the castle itself. He kept walking, eyes fixed on it, when he tripped over something, or rather someone.

"Hey" smiled Nicholas Potter. Revan froze. His brother, after so many years ... He looked a little annoyed, in his opinion. "If you want an autograph, just ask." He quickly grabbed a pen and signed his name on a small scroll. Still with a wide smile on his face, Nicholas Potter held out the piece of parchment to Revan. For a moment, the smile disappeared and was replaced by a look of disdain. "Just don't step on my clothes next time. They were expensive."

Revan wore a bored look on his face, even though he wanted to burn his brother with his thoughts. Still, he managed an acceptable apology before walking away, looking for Nott and Zabini. They were just ahead, entering a boat. A girl was with them, but he saw a fourth seat and hurried to reach it before another student. The giant had a boat to himself. He gave a shout and the boats moved over the black water. Revan's attention on it didn't last long. The castle was growing larger as they approached Hogwarts, the imposing towers with hundreds of windows illuminating the dark rocks.

"Heads down!" Warned the giant, almost lying on his boat to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. The boats passed through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They went through a dark tunnel that brought them near the castle. The boats stopped on stones and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is that your toad?" asked the creature, who was checking the boats as people disembarked.

"Trevor!" cried Neville happy, handing for the toad.

They climbed a stone staircase and crowded around the huge oak door. "You're all here? You there, still have yer toad?"

Hagrid knocked three times with his giant fist. A tall witch with black hair and emerald green robes opened the door. Her aged face matched Voldemort's description of Minerva McGonagall, the girl who went to Hogwarts with him. According to his lord, she wasn't a person to cross.

"The firs' years, professor" said the giant, pointing to the forty children who were trying to catch a glimpse of the insides of the castle. McGonagall thanked him and opened the door.

The lobby was huge; the stone walls were lit with torches, the ceiling was too high to see, and one by one the students went up the stairs that led to the upper floors. Revan did his best to memorize everything as McGonagall led them to another door. Through it, the Black heir could hear the murmur of hundreds of voices. That would be the Great Hall then.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Minerva began, her voice echoing off the walls. "The opening banquet of the school year will begin shortly, but before you sit, you will be sorted into one of the houses. The sorting is a very important ceremony because while you are here, your house will be your family. You will have classes with the rest of the students in your house, sleep in your house's dormitories and spend the free time in your house's common room."

Free time? Revan wouldn't have free time between studying, trying to steal the stone and make his brother's life a living hell.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has a noble history and has produced outstanding witches and wizards. Your successes make you earn points for your house, and errors will have them deducted. At the end of the year, the house with the most points wins the House Cup, a great honor. I hope that each of you will be proud of the house you are sorted into. The Sorting Ceremony will take place within a few minutes in the presence of the whole school. I suggest you smarten yourself up the best you can while you wait."

Her gaze lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was buckled under his left ear, and the dirty nose of a red-haired boy who stood beside Nicholas Potter. Behind Revan, Nott snickered along with Malfoy. Revan only smiled when he noticed that the redhead had no idea that his nose was dirty.

No one talked when McGonagall left. At least for the first minutes. Nicholas Potter whispered to his redheaded friend, who thought that they would be into some sort of pain. Hermione, the mudblood, whispered all the spells she knew under her breath.

Suddenly, about twenty ghosts passed through the back wall. Pearl-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to each other, barely seeing the first year students. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying:

"Forgive and forget I say let's give him a second chance..."

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He stains our reputation and, you know, he is not even a ghost. Geez, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost finally noticed them. No one answered. The Fat Friar introduced himself for all after realizing they were new students, the talk about Peeves totally forgotten. When McGonagall returned, she found The Fat Friar talking excitedly close to a pale Hermione, not realizing he was scaring the girl.

The forty students followed McGonagall, crossing the hall and double doors leading to the Great Hall. At the moment the doors opened, the voices of hundreds of students came to the newbies' ears. Journalists were taking pictures of Nicholas Potter, who was right behind McGonagall.

Not even his brother's fame could bring Revan's mood down. The lighting made by thousands of candles, golden plates and cups placed in the long tables where students sat made the castle ever more beautiful. At the end of the room was a table where the teachers sat. It wasn't difficult to find Quirrell, who was wearing the turban that hid the damage Voldemort had caused him when Quirrell gave his body to the Dark Lord. Revan looked at him, smirked and turned his attention to the dark ceiling filled with stars. Granger the mudblood said proudly that the stars weren't real.

Minerva silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first year students. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. The hat was patched and extremely dirty; Revan saw Malfoy's worried look at the thought of making his blond hair dirty. The hat's voice filled the great hall:

_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_  
_But don't judge on what you see,_  
_I'll eat myself if you can find_  
_A smarter hat than me._  
_You can keep your bowlers black,_  
_Your top hats sleek and tall,_  
_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_  
_And I can top them all._  
_There's nothing hidden in your head_  
_The Sorting Hat can't see,_  
_So try me on and I will tell you_  
_Where you ought to be._  
_You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
_Where dwell the brave at heart,_  
_Their daring, nerve and chivalry_  
_Set Gryffindors apart;_  
_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_  
_Where they are just and loyal,_  
_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_  
_And unafraid of toil;_  
_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_  
_If you've a steady mind,_  
_Where those of wit and learning,_  
_Will always find their kind;_  
_Or perhaps in Slytherin_  
_You'll make your real friends,_  
_Those cunning folk use any means_  
_To achieve their ends._  
_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_  
_And don't get in a flap!_  
_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_  
_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

The hall burst into applauses, Revan as well, though he was worried about the "There's nothing hidden in your head the Sorting Hat can't see" part.

The sorting began. Soon it was Revan's turn, being a Black. When his name was called, the Slytherin students frowned. They didn't have a Black sorted since 1972. Behind him, Malfoy let out a "WHAT?" cry loud enough for everyone to hear. He didn't want to be the third in line to get the Black fortune. Being the second was bad enough.

He put the hat on before McGonagall could.

_Cool fake memories, kid. Who made them for you?_

Revan stiffened before sighing with relief, when he remembered he had made the memories himself. He wondered what the Sorting Hat could see.

_Only your thoughts and emotions. Thirst for power, desire for revenge, oh, you remind me of a student I sorted decades ago._

Really? Who?

_A young boy named Tom Riddle._

A huge smile spread on Revan's face. He studied here?

_Oh, yes. Special child. You're just like him, so there's no better home for you than ... Slytherin!_

Revan removed the hat, gave it to Minerva with a smile on his face and went to the table which clapped politely for him. Revan sat next to Gemma Farley, a fifth year's prefect. They didn't talk much, everyone's attention was focused on the students who hadn't been sorted yet.

Bulstrode was the first girl to be sorted into Slytherin. Soon Crabble, one of Malfoy's bodyguards, joined them, followed by Tracey Davis, and Goyle. Granger the mudblood became a lion, after a long time. Daphne Greengrass, a beautiful blonde girl with blue eyes, became the next snake and sat alone at the edge of the table. After that, Longbottom was sorted into Gryffindor, and Malfoy went to the green table before the hat could touch his blond hair.

Revan was only greeted by a friendly face when Nott sat beside him, betting where a determined student would be sorted into. Finally, the most awaited time for journalists came.

"Potter, Nicholas!"

The whispers began. People pointed to Nicholas who walked proudly in the spotlight, smiling at the cameras. The hat was placed on his red hair, covering his brown eyes, and several minutes passed before the hat had the final verdict, though even it seemed indecisive:

"Gryffindor."

After that, things sped up. Weasley joined Potter the Gryffindor table, and the sorting finally ended with Zabini being sorted into Slytherin.

Dumbledore stood up, his arms wide open as if nothing could please him more than to see everyone there.

"Welcome" he said, "Welcome to another new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin the banquet, I would like to say a few words. Goofy! Whine! Bigmouth! Pinch! Thank you."

The hall burst into applause and cheers. The golden dishes were filled immediately, and Revan, already feeling hungry since the last time he had eaten (had been) before leaving the train, grabbed a salad and began to eat.

The dessert suddenly disappeared when Dumbledore returned to his feet: "Just a few more words now that we are all satisfied. I have some things to tell: First years should know that the Forbidden Forest is, as the name says, forbidden. Some older students should remember that, too. "

Dumbledore's bright eyes turned toward the Gryffindor table, where two redheads laughed.

"Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that no magic should be used between classes and in the hallways. The Quidditch tryouts will be held in the second week of the school year. Anyone interested in playing should contact Madame Hooch. And finally, I must say that this year, the third floor of the right side is out of bounds to everyone who does not want a slow and painful death. "

Some students laughed. Revan wasn't one of them. He was too busy thinking about how stupid Dumbledore had been. That would make every student in the school curious and it would not take more than a week for a fool to trespass the forbidden area only to be called brave. But what would cause a slow and painful death? Some kind of guardian. Which meant that something was being saved. Like the philosopher's stone.

Revan looked at Quirrell. Their eyes met and both men smirked. Only a few hours in Hogwarts and Dumbledore had already given the stone's location away.

After singing the worst song ever, Dumbledore dabbed his eyes, spoke of the beauty of music, and dismissed them all. The Slytherin students followed Farley out of the Great Hall, walking in a queue down to the dungeons, the older students taking the lead. They stopped in front of a picture of a man with long hair and white beards. Dumbledore's eyes showed love and power, this man had blue eyes filled with sense of order and justice.

"This is the entrance to the common room: Meet Merlin, the most powerful wizard in the world who was a, guess what, Slytherin. It appears only when he wants, so most days you will see only a wall of stones" said Farley, smiling when he saw all the first years moving closer to get a better look at the wizard. "The password for now is Draught of Living Dead."

Nothing changed, but when the older students leaned against the wall, they disappeared.

On the other side, the light was green. No. Everything was either green or black. Revan searched the source of the lights; they seemed to be under the black lake. The marble walls were occupied by skulls and paintings, four or five fireplaces crackling with, guess what, green fire. Some of the older students put their faces in the fire to tell their parents they were already there. Carpets contrasted with the cold black stones covering the floor, and black leather sofas surrounded them. On one, sat Severus Snape, watching the younger students tremble with the room's cold air.

"Sit" he ordered, and everyone sat at once. "You had the honor of being sorted into the noblest house of Hogwarts. Here are the rules that keep us alive."

"Because of our reputation of being a dark house, walk in groups in order to avoid pranks. Remember that your home is your family and as a family, we stand together even in the worst situations. A fellow Slytherin does not abandon a fellow Slytherin. A snake doesn't fight a snake. If you want to strangle, kill, you name it, another fellow Slytherin, feel free to do so, but Merlin, do it within these walls."

"Friendships outside the house are recommended, but be careful. Never bring anyone from another house in the common room. It's our only space where we are protected from any atrocity that happens to other students. The password is secret. Do not write it down, do not tell someone else. If you are willing to let someone in so easily, you should not be here."

"As head of this house, I demand nothing less than E's in all Potions essays and A's in other subjects. Read your Potion books before my classes, I always start the school year asking things students should only learn during the year. A hint has been given, I hope you're smart enough to find it. Welcome to Slytherin, and I hope you honor your home to the same extent that it now honors who you are."

He got up and left, his black robes floating behind him. When the students could no longer hear his footsteps, the talking began. The younger students were introduced to their dormitories, where their trunks were already on the side of a particular bed. Revan sat in his; as they put their pyjamas on, the boys introduced to each other.

Malfoy refused to talk to him. Even after the Black heir said it was a pleasure to meet him, there was no reply. Revan shrugged at that; when the time came, the Malfoys would be forced to join him.

When Revan slept that night, his dreams were filled with defeats coming from duels with Nicholas Potter.

At the same time, Nicholas Potter was awake and alone in his common room. It had been difficult to get rid of all his fans, who insisted on taking pictures or getting autographs. Ron Weasley, a boy with whom Nicholas had been forced to be friends with when he was younger, now snored loudly in the dormitories. Neville had been easier: Even being friendly, he didn't stick to him like Ron did. He moved his wand, muttered Tempus and saw that his father was late for a floo conference.

Frustrated, he sat in front of the fireplace and waited, examining his wand and surroundings from time to time. It wasn't enough to know things that third years did, no, he had to be the best in everything he did. He had private tutors since the age of five, and since then he hadn't stopped to rest. As if that wasn't enough, it wasn't only Ron he had to befriend. There was his stupid little sister who could be more annoying than him, squeaking every time Nicholas spoke and proposing to marry him at least once a day. He understood Dumbledore's idea of showing that there was no prejudice coming from the Potters towards blood traitors, but that didn't make his friendship with the Weasleys any better.

Nicholas turned his head to the glowing fire. He could see his father there, looking annoyed, yet he smiled towards his son.

"Father" whispered Nicholas, moving closer until his red hair almost touched the fire. "What's so important?"

"The Black kid" replied James. "Sirius checked with his lovers, none of them has heirs. He has no son, Nick. Revan Black does not exist.

Now it was Nicholas who looked annoyed. "So what?"

"He's at Hogwarts. You're at Hogwarts. Find out more about the kid. Befriend him."

"BUT HE'S A SLYTHERIN!" Nicholas yelled, standing up, his fists closed. He paced around the room, taking deep breaths. Then he whispered: "I will not be friends with someone from that house."

James didn't seem willing to give up so easily. Through the fire, the redhead could see his father's face full of rage. When he spoke, Nicholas could barely hear his voice, yet it froze his bones. "This is not a request. You better be kind to that kid. Now go to sleep, and don't let me down!"

He was no longer there when Nicholas started to complain. Signing, the red head went upstairs to his dormitories. Ron's snoring kept him from sleeping, and many hours later, he was still thinking of how to approach Black. Nicholas was going to find out what was wrong with the boy. He wouldn't let his father down.

**I know I don't deserve them, but reviews make me happy :)**

**PS: Chapter 10 is already with Marwana, my amazing beta. It should be ready by next week.**


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